La Claire Et Le Stégoceratops: Le Noël Enchanté
by Lord Kristine
Summary: A sequel to the first one, only more Christmassy or whatever.
1. Chapter 1

The reason we use clichés in media is that, more often than not, they reflect the patterns we see in our lives. Elkay was certain of this, as she was to some degree a fictional character, and she was also attempting to survive the minefield known as "Christmas with family", at present: a situation which was all too real. This Christmas was particularly harrowing, as it marked the end of an especially rough year. Not only had she lost someone very close to her, but she had revisited a relationship that she never expected to deal with again.

It wasn't so much that Elkay was against having a father, but things worked out so much better when he was absent. Her mother was overbearing at the worst of times- admittedly, her abuse could be avoided by simply ignoring her- but she was more than eager to stir up trouble whenever her husband (ex-husband, maybe) was within thirty paces. How they had ever fallen in love, _if_ they had, was a mystery . . . not that the _why_ of the situation mattered all that much, when the end result was a three-way feud between dragons.

There was no respite nor means of permanent escape from this hell. Perhaps Elkay had somewhat brought it upon herself by shunning the friends and family who would have been significantly less abusive, leaving her with limited options as far as invitations were concerned. Above all, she did not want to spend the holidays alone, and she knew that if she miraculously found a way to escape this situation, she wouldn't be any happier. She thought about all the people who were having a heartwarming, Hallmark-worthy Christmas and felt a kind of nonspecific jealousy, which evolved into rage. This was the one time of year that people were supposed to put aside their differences and immerse themselves in a genuine, uncynical atmosphere. Of course, Christmas had become a shallow, corporate holiday that fed into capitalist ideals under the guise of "caring", but to put it bluntly, Elkay _did_ care. She so much wanted to partake in the stupid traditions of the season, spending time with people who would be forced to put up with her whether they wanted to or not, and she would be kind to them in turn, she knew, because she really needed an excuse to create a temporary blank slate and enjoy herself for once. She was well aware that this was the emotional equivalent of horse-blinders, but she was sick and tired of acting morally superior because she had the gall to call out what people enjoyed. It was in her nature to look for the puppet strings, and in finding them, destroy the illusion of a spectacle, but she only ended up being unhappy when she did. Her mind was perhaps enriched by this pursuit, but it leeched its power from her heart, which might be beyond recovery at this point. Still, she vowed that she would let herself be ignorant for once if it meant that she could enjoy something unconditionally, because most people were incapable of overcoming their bare emotions, and if she pretended that this was the case for her as well, she'd fit in . . . for a little while.

The only problem with her plan was that her parents had not taken the same pledge, and were tearing into each other no less aggressively than any other day. She could hear them squabbling in the next room over, and when she opened the door to see if anything had progressed, she cringed at the sheer volume of their voices.

"-COMPLETELY UNREASONABLE!"

"THIS, COMING FROM THE WOMAN WHO TRIED TO PARENT HER DAUGHTER THROUGH A CONVOLUTED PLOT!"

"YOU DID THE EXACT SAME THING! YOU MESSED HER UP EVEN MORE!"

Elkay folded her ears, visibly upset by the remark.

"I'm right here."

"Yeah, but it's not like this is news to you," her father snorted, "You said it yourself: there's something deeply wrong with you."

"Can we maybe not talk about this on Christmas Eve?" she pleaded.

Her mother rolled her eyes.

"Here she goes, playing the pity card."

"It's not the pity card. I just want to have a nice Christmas."

"Why? It's not even an Asterparan holiday. If you want to celebrate some stupid human event, go find the Jurassic Park characters."

"None of them will take me."

"Obviously. It's your own fault, you know."

"I know. There's no need to go into de-"

"I mean, you fucked up their lives pretty badly. Half of them are dinosaurs, and the other half are dead."

"Actually, more than half are dinosaurs and only a few are dead," she whispered.

Her father waved his paw dismissively.

"Doesn't matter. Your mother is right. There's a reason they don't like you."

"There's a reason why everyone doesn't like me, but on Christmas-"

"First of all, that should be 'a reason why no one likes me', and second, that's not true."

Her ears perked up.

"Really?"

"Of course. There's nothing special about Christmas."

She sighed.

"Oh. I thought maybe you'd at least try to make it special, considering I ask very little of you."

"Don't give me that shit. We owe you nothing. We raised you."

"And look how I turned out."

Her mother sneered.

"That was your own fault. You made bad choices. If you had listened to us-"

"You didn't exactly make it easy to listen, though, did you?" Elkay snapped, "All I wanted was a little support. You never made a smidgeon of effort to understand me."

"You don't even understand yourself!"

"But I try. I try to understand you, too, but I keep coming to the conclusion that you hate me. I know this isn't true, since you've told me otherwise, but why can't we be a family?"

"Maybe because you prefer living with your head buried in a useless book," her mother remarked icily, "You seem to put an awful lot of effort into writing about people who ultimately can't return your affection."

Elkay went rigid.

"You're reading too deep into things."

"What?"

She began to twitch uncontrollably.

"If you're talking about what I think you're talking about, I know it's impossible, okay? I never believed it would work, because it's not meant to be, but I can still think about him every now and then, can't I? It doesn't hurt anyone."

Her parents exchanged a look. After receiving an encouraging (violent) shove, her father folded his paws calmly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but it sounds like something I don't wanna get into."

Elkay snuffed.

"Good, because I haven't told a soul. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you two first, and I find that sad."

"So, you're going to be one of those children who keeps secrets from her parents?" her father chuckled.

"I guess you'll have to wait and see, since you clearly haven't been around long enough to know."

She slithered past him as he tried to come up with a retort. He shook his head and wheeled around, giving up on the argument.

"Where are you going?"

Elkay huffed, expelling a cloud of soot.

"Out. Merry Christmas, by the way."

And she slammed the door.

Perhaps she had been a bit harsh, but then again, her parents had been downright monsters. They may be right about many things, but in general, they were as messed up as she was. Failure was genetic, she supposed.

In order to avoid the glowing windows that warmed the night with their much happier celebrations, Elkay took off and increased her altitude greatly, sailing through a starry sky on leather wings. She slowed to a stop near a dark, unpopulated tower, which used to be the office of her granddaughter. Fluttering her wings daintily, she perched herself on the windowsill and slunk through, crossing the glass like it wasn't even there. Once inside, she opened the bottom drawer of an old desk and pulled out a snowglobe. After placing it on the table, she used her tail to set up a workspace. All she really needed was a pen and paper, but she turned on a desk lamp and pointed it at the snowglobe so that she wouldn't miss a single detail.

Trapped inside the ornament was an entire world, filled with the essences of people she knew. If there was one means of escape from this nightmarish evening, it was contained in this relic.

Wiping away a tear that had fallen on the spherical glass, she picked up her pen and began to write.


	2. Chapter 2

The wilderness is abnormally silent in the winter. The few animals that remain active in December find themselves in a world muted by snow, in which every footstep seems to exist in a bubble with a radius no larger than five feet or so. This silence brings peace to some and disquietude to others, but regardless of the atmosphere's varying effects, any sudden interruption is sure to prompt terror and terror alone.

So it was on this chilly day, when a panicked stag burst from the bare bushes, panting in a deep huff. The creature leapt over roots and boulders, weaving between trees with the expertise of an acrobat. That his hooves could provide grip against bare rock was nothing short of miraculous, and in this motion, he seemed free from the restraints of gravity and centripetal forces, changing direction as sharply as he would if he weighed no more than a sparrow. His muscles rippled beneath a thick hide, and vapor escaped his muzzle in bursts, punctuated by the occasional droplet of saliva.

The animal arched his back in the middle of a particularly daring leap. An arrow had pierced his shoulder with a dull thump, and when this fact registered, he screamed. He stumbled slightly before attempting to match his previous speed, but another shaft struck his rear, and he was brought down to his knees. The stag bellowed, blowing a broken cloud out of his snout in a final attempt to seek help. None came.

The third and final quarrel pierced his neck, and he was pinned to the ground. He could hear his attacker approaching, boots crunching in the snow that had concealed his scent and sound. The hunter knelt in front of the moaning buck and slit his throat, watching as the deer's legs kicked violently, speed reducing, twitching a little before ceasing their motion entirely. Blood poured out of the corpse in buckets as it was dragged away from where it had fallen. Like a sack of flour, the limp deer was tossed on a sled, which the man pulled all the way to the ridge of a hill that overlooked a small village. As he gazed at the tranquil scene, a much shorter man joined him, carrying three pheasants in his arms. He dropped the birds carelessly and wiped his brow.

"You always have to outshine me, don't you?"

The taller man did not look away from the town.

"This isn't about boastfulness, Maboul. As long as no one starves, we will be doing our job . . . But I did win."

Maboul crossed his arms, kicking the snow bitterly.

"This has been a rotten year, I'll say that much. I blame the castle. Something's not right about it."

The taller man turned to stare at the vague silhouette of a fortress that towered above the woods like a sentinel, partly concealed by wintery clouds.

"I won't deny that I'm perplexed by its sudden appearance, but I'm sure there's a perfectly ordinary reason why we didn't notice it until last year. In any case, its occupants bear us no ill will, and that's enough to earn my trust. We mustn't forget what they've done for us in these troubled times."

Maboul spat.

"If they really cared about us, they'd invite us up to that castle of theirs and show us what they're hiding. No one's that secretive unless they fear discovery."

"Whatever they do up there is their private business, Maboul, but I'm sure if things get any worse, they'll welcome us with open arms."

"I doubt it."

"Well, let's not wait to find out. Help me carry this beast."

Maboul tossed his pheasants onto the sled and pushed it gently.

"They won't be happy when we return. Every day, we come back with less."

"Well, they'll have to make do."

Maboul snorted.

"This is going to be hard to explain. Do you really trust the castle?"

"A castle is nothing more than a building. I do not trust the castle, but I trust Claire. I've known her for years. Aside from one outburst, she has never given me any reason to be suspicious of her."

"And what of her husband?"

"He seems perfectly fine," he muttered as he adjusted the stag's position so it wouldn't bleed out on the sled.

"I disagree. There's something off about him."

"I think you're being paranoid. Do you not trust my judgment?"

"I trust you, James."

He wiped his gloves in the snow, staining it red.

"Good. Let's get this meat back to town."


	3. Chapter 3

Claire was digging through the mud on her hands and knees when something cold and spherical hit the back of her head, erupting into white fragments that speckled the dirt around her. She wheeled around furiously and threw a mudball in retribution. Her target sputtered and wiped his eyes.

"Jesus, Claire! There could have been a rock in there!"

"Yeah, well same for your snowball. What's the big idea?"

He nodded to a horse-drawn sleigh.

"Just getting your attention. I'm ready to go into town. You coming?"

She turned away to conceal her expression.

". . . No. I think I'll sit this one out."

Owen cocked his head.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"What's wrong."

Claire sighed and flicked the mud from her hands, looking up at the grey sky.

"I lost my wedding ring."

Owen shrugged.

"I'll buy you a new one. Come on."

She stood up, visibly vexed.

"Owen, this is a big deal! I lost the symbol of our unity."

He blinked.

"And I can't buy you a new one because . . ."

"Because it's sentimental!" she barked, "There are billions of rings in the world, but only one that belongs to us!"

"Two, including mine."

Claire rolled her eyes.

"Owen, can you please not treat this like a joke? I'm starting to worry that I'll never see it again."

"It'll turn up."

She huffed, creating a puff of vapor.

"Stop being so nonchalant about this! It's my _wedding ring_!"

Owen winced.

"Don't be mad, Claire . . ."

She sighed and fell to her knees, holding her forehead in grimy palms.

"I'm not mad at you; I'm mad at myself. I really screwed up."

Owen walked over calmly and sat down beside her. He cradled her in his arms, rocking her back and forth as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Claire, it's just a piece of metal. Real marriage is more than a hoop. It's about love, sharing . . . eternal suffering . . ."

Claire groaned.

"I'm a terrible wife . . ."

He shook his head firmly.

"You're not: trust me. This past year has been the happiest one of my entire life- granted, it wasn't sunshine and rainbows before that, but still."

Claire buried her face in his shoulder.

"But the ring was gold and everything . . ."

"We can buy another one, no problem. That's one perk of being a king, I suppose."

Claire sighed.

"The villagers must think you made a huge mistake by marrying me."

Owen smirked.

"Well, they'd be wrong. You're not just some peasant girl, Claire. You're the one person who was willing to give me a chance, and that makes you better than all the villagers combined. I wouldn't trade you for any of them."

"Not even someone prettier than me?"

"If such a person existed, I would not. You're too hard on yourself, Claire. It's not the surface that counts. You know that. You'd have to, to marry me."

She rolled her eyes.

"That's hardly comparable. You changed, I didn't."

"I wouldn't _want_ you to change."

"Well, that makes one person. I'm pretty sure the villagers would disagree."

"The villagers are idiots," Owen laughed, "They bought that nonsense about the castle being hidden by clouds all those years-"

"Only because the truth is much more ludicrous."

Owen chuckled.

"You tried to explain it to them once, as I recall, and they thought you were crazy. Crazy for telling the truth: imagine that!"

Claire lifted her shoulders and spoke through her teeth with reluctance.

"I could try again . . ."

Owen quirked a brow.

"You wanna tell them I was a dinosaur for fifteen years? Be my guest."

She rolled her eyes.

"Point taken. I imagine being honest would only make things worse."

Owen clapped his hands and stood up, helping Claire to her feet as well.

"Agreed. Do you wanna come into town now, or are you gonna play in the mud all afternoon?"

She wiped her palms on her apron.

"I'll come, but I have to change into something more presentable."

He gave a quick nod and turned to the sleigh.

"Cool. I'll wait here."

She grabbed him by the arm.

"Oh, no you don't. You're changing too. You still have mud on your face."

Owen sighed.

"How rich do we have to be before we can walk into town covered in mud? You know, I've heard of royals who wear whatever they want, and nobody questions _them_."

"That has nothing to do with money. It's a reaction born of fear or respect."

"So how do we get respect?"

"By not looking like a pig. Come on!"

He followed her into the castle, grumbling all the way.

Later, they rode into town on the sleigh pulled by their horse, Magnifique, who was nearly invisible against the snow. From a distance, one might swear that the stallion was nothing but a pair of floating, black eyes. Claire nestled herself in the crook of Owen's arm as he manned the reins. They were both bundled up in multiple layers of fur. It had begun to snow, and the wind was picking up as well. Claire batted her eyes as they were pelted with snowflakes.

"This has been a bad winter," she mumbled through her scarf.

"I'll say! I can't imagine how the others are faring."

"Maybe we should bring them up to the castle."

Owen bit his lip.

"I was thinking about it, and we'd have to remove all artifacts from the time when the castle was magic."

Claire shivered.

"I know. I'm worried about that, too. What if we miss something? We'll have to be careful."

"And we'll have to warn our guests about the forest. If they wander off and upset the fairies, we'll have more dinosaurs on our hands, and I think we both know how well the remaining humans would take it."

Claire hesitated before making her next remark.

"What about James? He's pretty levelheaded. I'm sure he'd listen to us."

Owen hummed.

"He might, were it not for the fact that he has a vendetta against me, or more specifically, me as a dinosaur. He still thinks I ate his friend's soul."

"So tell him it was you the whole time."

Owen frowned.

"Claire, your plan is for me to explain to James that I'm the same person he used to play with as a child, who he thinks was replaced by a monster that steals voices to deceive humans into believing he's one of them. Do you see the problem here?"

She sighed.

"Fine. It was just a suggestion."

A pause.

"Can you tell your horse to slow down?" she hissed.

Owen blinked.

"You're mad at me."

"I'm not."

"You are. I can tell. Look, I'm not trying to bash your ideas, but don't forget that James literally shot me with an arrow once, so I'm a little hesitant to let him in on our secret. If he turns on us, I could be _killed_ , Claire."

"I said I'd never let anyone hurt you."

"I know, but it's hard to keep those kinds of promises. Better to avoid danger altogether."

There was a long, heavy silence. Claire watched the striped trunks zip past at different speeds, depending on the distance. When she was sure that Owen was not going to continue the conversation, she decided to take up the chore instead.

"Owen . . . You know I don't still have feelings for James, right?"

He shifted uncomfortably, unsure of where to look.

"I guess . . ."

"I really don't. I promise."

Owen exhaled.

"I know. I just worry sometimes, because of how I was and . . . and how he _wasn't_ that."

"What?"

"You've never hated him, but there was a time when you hated me."

Claire scowled.

"Owen, I've been pissed at James plenty of times. That's how I met you in the first place!"

"Yes, but you were mad that he was engaged to someone else, and now that Marie's gone . . ."

She crossed her arms.

"So you think I'll just go after anyone as soon as they're available? If that were true, I'd be out on the town already, because she died of something catching, you know."

Owen looked away.

"Claire, I didn't mean it like that. I'm not worried because I doubt you; I'm worried because I don't have faith in myself. I mean, for over a decade, I was certain that I'd never truly fit in with normal people as long as I lived. You changed my mind, but every once in a while, I wonder if it's all wishful thinking. I may be human now, but the dinosaur part of my life _did_ happen, and as much as I never want to revisit it, I'm afraid this happiness will be taken away."

Claire put her hand on his knee.

"It won't, Owen. I promise. No matter what, I'm with you 'til the end, and you can bet your ass that I'm telling the truth, one hundred percent. I'll love you forever, and that's never going to change, even if _you_ do."

Owen sighed and turned back to the road, eyes empty.

"I'd like to believe you, but it seems like every time I get my hopes up, something bad happens."

"Not this past year."

He shook his head ominously.

"All the more reason to be afraid. If I've been happy for this long, whatever's coming next will be worse than anything that preceded it."

Claire touched his arm, though neither of them could feel the contact through their winter wardrobe.

"Owen, it breaks my heart that you're used to suffering, but I promise that as long as I'm alive, I'll make sure you never- DEER!"

Owen jumped as she pointed at a sled in the middle of the road, which was carrying a dead doe. He tugged on the reins, and the horse went into a frenzy, rearing up as far as the traces would allow. Claire grabbed Owen fearfully as the carriage slid back and tilted a little before slamming to the ground. They attempted to speak to the horse in soothing tones, but sounded more panicked than anything. The animal calmed down eventually, and when he did, a man came jogging out of the forest. He removed his scarf and waved at the sleigh's passengers.

"Claire! Owen! Hi!"

Claire gave an exasperated sigh.

"James, you can't leave your kill in the middle of the road. It's hard to see in all this snow, and we could have been in an accident!"

He dragged the carcass out of the way.

"Sorry about that. It must have slid. I left it because I heard something in the forest, and I thought it might be the monster. If I could bring down that beast, I'd feed the whole village for weeks!"

Owen gave Claire a pointed look. She shrugged helplessly. James didn't seem to notice this exchange.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you two might be able to give me a ride into town, now that you're here."

Owen held up his mitted hand.

"Actually, we don't usually carry-"

Before he could finish, James flung the doe onto the cart. The head hung limply between Claire and Owen, tongue dripping with blood. James climbed up shortly after, sitting beside Claire.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, but Maboul went back into town, and it's a boring trip to make alone. Cold, too."

Owen sighed and flicked the reins lightly. Magnifique snorted and began to trot down the hill.

"Of course, this winter has been pretty terrible," James continued, "Where's all this snow coming from?"

Claire smiled.

"I had a dream that we lived in a glass bubble, and it snowed because a giant, yellow bird with leathery wings shook it from the sky."

James snorted.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

Claire looked away in shame, but Owen smiled and gave her a nudge.

" _I_ think it sounds beautiful."

James rested his feet on the sleigh's overhang.

"Well, I'm not into that fairy tale stuff. I prefer to stay grounded."

"Says the man who thinks there's a monster in the woods . . ." Owen muttered spitefully.

"Hey, don't joke," James retorted coldly, "That creature ate my friend, and I'll never forgive him for it. It's not easy to lose loved ones, you know."

"I know," Owen said quietly, "But sometimes, you have to move on."

James' face hardened.

"I won't rest until that monster is brought to justice. I wouldn't be surprised if he caused the sickness, too. I lost Marie, my father . . ."

"It's been a bad year for everyone," Owen mumbled, "Half the village is sick."

"I'm well aware. Just the other day, Fleur the orphan girl caught the illness."

Claire covered her mouth.

"Oh, no!"

"It's true," James replied grimly, "And she's one of many. We'll lose half of our population by Spring, I'm sure."

Claire wrung her hands.

"James . . . if things are really as bad as you say, we could invite some of you up to the castle for a while."

He waved his hand dismissively.

"No, that won't help. We're dead no matter where we go, and I don't want either of you to be infected. Things are already bad enough, so we must take care. I can't imagine they'll get any worse on their own."

But as they rode over a rise, a burning house came into view. The village was on fire.


	4. Chapter 4

Claire and Owen jumped off the sleigh immediately, calming Magnifique as he reared up in terror, giving a shrill whinny and kicking his front legs spastically. James was utterly horrified. He slid down from his seat with wide eyes and grabbed his head.

"Oh my god, my god!"

Claire covered Magnifique's eyes and pointed him to the castle.

"Go home, boy! Go home!"

The horse understood her meaning, charging away from the quickly-spreading fire without protest. Claire and Owen ran towards it.

"Make sure no one's still inside!" Owen shouted, "If you go in for a rescue, crawl beneath the smoke!"

James shook his head quickly and snapped out of his stupor, following them into town. The villagers were shoveling snow onto the flaming houses. A middle-aged woman lifted her head as Claire passed by.

"Claire! The whole village is burning to the ground!"

"I noticed! It's hard to miss a giant bonfire!"

"We've been trying to put it out for an hour, but it's just too big!"

The woman grunted as she was knocked over by two men, who rushed towards the nearest building with buckets of water. Claire helped her to her feet.

"Forget the fire, Sableuse. We need to get everyone to safety. Is there anyone left in the buildings?"

"I don't know! We didn't move the orphan girl, because she was sick, and-"

Claire made a dash for the orphanage. Owen followed and held her back when she reached the door.

"I'll go."

"Why you?"

"This isn't the time to argue!"

He kicked down the door and disappeared into the smoky building, which was not yet fully engulfed by the fire. Claire considered going in after him, but as she made her first step, he came out with a pale girl in his arms. The child coughed and looked around with glazed eyes.

"What's going on?"

Claire wrapped her coat around the sick orphan.

"It's okay, Sweetheart. You're safe now."

But when the girl saw what was happening to her village, she began to cry. Claire didn't blame her. It was becoming clear that no matter how quickly the fire was extinguished, there was no hope of salvaging what little remained of the affected buildings.

The village was uninhabitable.

When the last embers faded, the villagers made their way up to the castle in a procession led by Claire and Owen. James followed third, tailed by Maboul, who had vanished during the incident. Owen carried in his arms the orphan girl, regretting his decision to send back the horse . . . Well, Claire's decision, but he was willing to take the fall for it. The child shivered in his arms, white as snow and dangerously feverish. He gave her a look of pity as her tiny fingers tightened around his collar. When the castle finally came into view, Owen handed Fleur to Claire and addressed the villagers.

"This castle is your home for the winter. We will be sharing food, water, and anything else that grows scarce with time. We weren't expecting visitors, so the castle is not prepared, but by the end of the day, we'll have you settled. You're free to roam as you please, but do not go into the dark part of the forest. That's an order."

The villagers seemed too tired to question his command.

Hearing the halls buzz with chatter and frantic footsteps filled Owen's heart with a kind of tugging anxiety that made him jumpy and irritable. He was constantly on edge, so much so that whenever someone called his name, he'd tense up and drop whatever he'd been carrying, which was more often than not fragile. Claire questioned the sudden disappearance of at least five teacups, but said nothing about it. Yet even in her silence, he could tell that she was worried about him. He put on a smile and tried to keep his knees from knocking whenever she was around, but Claire was no fool. When they walked past each other in the front hall around eleven, she caught him by the shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"They don't know what you were. The only reason they'd suspect anything is because you're afraid. Relax. You're one of them."

Owen nodded, but she could tell that he wasn't convinced. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"I'll stand by you, no matter what. You don't have to worry, though. Our days of fear are over."

Owen squeezed her hand back, and they parted ways. He felt only a little better.

Around noon, Owen brought a fresh set of blankets into the temporary room of Fleur. The child was nestled deep in her child-sized bed, hair askew and skin bloodless. She took shallow but audible breaths, and it was clear that she was barely hanging on. As Owen opened the door, however, she made a small sound. Owen turned to see if she was awake. Her eyes were open, so he decided to greet her.

"Hello."

"Hi. You're Owen, right?"

He nodded.

"You're a king?"

"I am."

"What's it like, living in a castle?"

Owen smiled.

"You tell me. You're in one right now."

Her eyes went wide as dinner plates.

"This is your castle?"

He knelt beside her bed.

"Mhm. Actually, this room used to be mine when I was young."

She looked around with awe.

"Wow. I've never been anywhere this nice before. The bed is so comfortable . . ."

"Do you need more blankets?"

"No, thank you. I think I'm okay. These ones are a lot bigger than the sheets at the orphanage."

"Thicker, you mean?"

"That too, but my feet don't stick out from these ones."

Owen smiled.

"Well, you can take them home with you once you move out."

Fleur's smile disappeared.

"How long am I staying here?"

"For as long as you need to. I won't make you go back to the village until they rebuild the orphanage."

Fleur bit her lip.

"Do I _have_ to go back?"

"Well . . ."

"I don't mean to be a bother, and I won't stay here longer than I should, but I'd rather be sent to a new orphanage, if I have to go at all. I've met every grown-up in this town, and none of them wants me."

Owen felt his heart sink.

"I'm sure there's someone . . ."

"There isn't. Every couple wants children of their own, and the ones that already have some couldn't afford to take care of anyone else."

"I'm sure you'll find _someone_ . . ."

Fleur shook her head.

"Nobody wants kids unless they're their own. My mama and papa are gone, so there's no one who wants me."

Owen brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"Fleur, there are plenty of people in the world, and any couple who'd turn down a sweet girl like you would have to be crazy. You'll find your family."

She smiled gently.

"I hope so . . . Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

She lowered her voice.

"Sometimes, I pretend that my parents are still out there, and that they're looking for me right now."

"Oh."

"I know it's not true, but I wish it was," she mumbled as she kneaded the comforter in her hands, "I read storybooks where orphans find out that their parents are secretly alive, but they can't come back to their children because they're lost at sea or kidnapped by monsters. I like to imagine that the same thing happened with my parents, and when I sail away to find them, I battle demons and mythical creatures to get to a secret island where they're waiting for me, and they tell me how brave I am for rescuing them before taking me home and living happily ever after. I'm not like that in real life, though. I'm always afraid."

Owen chuckled.

"Fleur, let me tell you something important: everyone is afraid, even grown-ups, but that doesn't stop them from being brave. If you do what scares you, that's the true mark of courage."

She sighed.

"I wish I was like that."

Owen rubbed his chin, then stood up and made his way over to a chest on the other side of the room. He rummaged through it, then returned to her bedside with a stuffed bear.

"This is Oos. My mother made him for me when I was your age, because I used to be afraid of thunder. I sat with him under the sheets until the storms passed. It's easier to be brave when you're protecting someone you care about."

He tucked the bear under her arm.

"I haven't been able to take care of him for quite some time, and I think he'd be happier with you."

Her mouth hung open.

"Do you mean forever?"

"Forever and ever," Owen beamed.

Fleur cuddled the bear happily, then hugged Owen's neck.

"Thank you!"

He laughed.

"Don't mention it. I'm glad I could be of help."

Fleur smiled at Oos, then cocked her head and gazed at Owen with wonderment.

"You know, you're not like the others."

Owen tensed up.

"What do you mean?"

"You're nicer. I believe you're a real gentleman," she said matter-of-factly.

Owen smiled and ruffled her hair.

"I'm glad you think so. Get some rest, okay?"

She sat up as he turned to leave.

"Will you be back?"

"Of course."

"When?"

"Tonight . . . But only if you go to sleep."

She nodded.

"I will. And I'll take good care of Oos."

Owen smiled as he reached for the door handle.

"Alright. Sleep tight, Peanut."

"See you later, Owen, and thank you!"

He winked and shut the door as gently as he could manage, but rendered the action pointless when he turned and gave a startled yelp. Claire was standing in the hallway with her arms crossed.

"I didn't expect to find you here," she mumbled.

"M-me neither. What's going on?"

She quirked a brow.

"Nothing. I just heard you talking to Fleur, so I decided to see what was up."

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough. She seems sweet."

"She is."

"Do you like her?"

"Of course."

"Should we keep her?"

Owen paused.

"Keep her, as in-"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't want to make a decision right away."

"Bullshit. I can see you've made up your mind."

He twiddled his fingers.

"If you don't want to-"

"I never said that."

"But these things take time."

"No, Owen. You know how lonely she is. I can see it in your eyes. It would be no trouble for us to take care of her, and your heart is set on it, I can tell."

He sighed and looked over his shoulder, thinking about the orphan on the other side of the door.

"Maybe. But you know how I let my heart make all the decisions."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"But I don't know the first thing about parenthood, and she's not even ours."

Claire touched his cheek.

"You don't have to birth a child for it to be yours. That girl may not have come from you, but you're very much alike."

"Because I'm so juvenile?"

"Partly, yes," she said with a smirk, "But more importantly, you both know what it's like to be isolated, and to feel unloved. She needs you just as much as you needed me . . . and as much as I needed you."

Owen gave a half-smile.

"Can we really do it?"

"I don't see why not. Money's no object, and we both like her."

His face brightened, and he was filled with more energy than the last three weeks combined.

"This is so exciting! When can we tell her?"

"When she gets better. This will be very sudden for her, and we don't want to put the poor girl into a state of shock or something."

Owen bounced up and down on his heels.

"We're doing this! We're really _doing_ this!"

She put her finger over his lips.

"Shh-shh-shh. You'll wake her."

He nodded, then lowered his voice to a whisper.

"You're right. Oh, Claire, this is so _exciting_! I never thought I'd be lucky enough to be a father! I promise, I'll learn everything there is to know about being a good parent."

"Great. Fleur said that she likes books, right? Is it okay if I bring her some?"

"Of course! I'm not going to leave you out on all the fun."

Claire gave a definitive nod.

"Then it's settled. From this point on, we're parents in training."

He shook her hand, grinning from ear to ear.

"Parents in training."


	5. Chapter 5

In the days that followed, Owen could not be torn away from his studies. He read nearly every book in the library, learning what made a good father, and which pitfalls to avoid. Claire, too, did a fair amount of reading, sitting by Fleur's bed for at least two hours every day. She took note of the stories the child was most fond of, and carefully selected a collection of novels tailored to her personal taste. They played as many games as were allowed by her confinement to the bed, and in the afternoons, they spent a great deal of time drawing pictures of castles and palm trees, and once in a while, each other. Claire and Owen had not yet told Fleur of their plan to adopt her, but they could already imagine the look on her face when she found out that this heavenly arrangement was permanent.

But that day never came.

Fleur grew sicker and sicker, and there came a point when she was too weak to play. Claire continued to read her stories, but Fleur kept her eyes closed the whole time, wincing between coughs. Her grip loosened around little Oos, who slipped from her bed many times. Owen found her lying on the floor beside the bear one day, and when he asked what had happened, she looked up at him with glazed, unfocused eyes and whispered: "I tried to take care of him, but I've failed". Owen assured her that Oos wouldn't hold grudges against her, because he knew she was sick, and could forgive her for dropping him every now and then. Fleur didn't seem to believe him.

And it only got worse from there. The child's voice grew hoarse beyond recognition, and her forehead was often decorated with beads of cold sweat. Claire and Owen continued to tend to her as much as they could, but they were powerless to heal the poor child. No one from the village could save her, in fact. They had lost their doctor the year prior, and even if this weren't the case, there was no known cure for the illness that was slowly winning the battle for her life.

One night, after a particularly harrowing period of Fleur's sickness, Owen slipped out of bed, leaving Claire to a troubled sleep. He crept down the hall and snuck into Fleur's room to see if there was any hope of improvement. She was no better off than when he'd last seen her.

Staring down at her moonlit face, he realized that she was too weak to overcome this affliction, and by the looks of it, she had no more than a few hours left. This, he knew in his heart, though he did not want it to be true. Fleur was dying, plain and simple, and there was nothing to be done about it.

Or maybe she had a chance, after all.

Owen knew of a flower that could cure any illness and heal any wound. The magic blossom would be surprisingly easy to access, and even easier to use. Unlike most enchanted medicine, it was not located on some tall mountain or deep in the ocean: it was so very close and reachable . . . and growing inside of him, to be specific. A year ago, Claire had healed him using two flowers. One had been spent on his poisoned body while bringing him back to life, and the other was still inside his stomach, clinging to his gut like a parasite. The only problem was that this particular parasite was necessary for his continued survival. Well, not survival, since he wouldn't die without it, but he certainly wouldn't be living a real life if he removed the plant.

He hadn't told Claire, but his fear of changing back into a dinosaur was totally founded. Without the flower, the fairies' curse would set in, and he'd lose his humanity forever. Then again, the flower was the only thing that could heal Fleur, and hoarding it was an indisputably selfish act. The orphan girl hadn't had the chance to live a proper life, and if Owen was out of the picture, she'd still have Claire, so _someone_ would be happy.

Just not Owen.

Really, there was no reason he couldn't tolerate being a dinosaur. It would be easy to wander off into the wilderness and spend the rest of his days grazing in a remote meadow: far, far away from civilization. And he wouldn't be too lonely, because the memories of spending time with Claire would last him a lifetime. He hadn't had the most pleasant life, but the light she shone on his otherwise dismal existence was more than enough to keep him going. Part of him had known that it wouldn't last, and going forward, he ought to consider himself lucky for even meeting her at all. Saving Fleur was the right thing to do, and it was also the natural thing to do. Since Owen could never truly escape his saurian form, the least he could do was sacrifice his humanity for someone he loved. It was a brave and noble decision, but even so, the thought of leaving this life behind broke his heart.

Slowly, Owen turned his wedding ring around on his finger, then pulled it off before he could change his mind. He placed it on the ground in front of him and concentrated on the enchantment within his body. The magic flower crawled up his throat and slipped from his mouth, which molded itself into a beak in the plant's absence. Owen cupped the blossom in his now elephantine front feet and felt tears trickling down his scaly cheeks. He considered swallowing the flower once more, just so he could enjoy being human for a short moment, but he feared that he'd change his mind if he gave himself a chance to think about everything he was about to give up. Before he knew it, he had pressed the petals against Fleur, where they fizzled into magical sparks, glowing inside her chest as the spell healed her. When the light faded, her breathing grew steady, and she rolled over, looking a lot less frail. Owen gave a light smile, but it didn't last long. He was no longer safe in the castle, and would have to leave immediately if he wanted to sneak away before first light. He picked up his wedding ring with his beak, shuddering at how familiar the appendage felt, and turned to leave. As he pushed the door open with his horn, he heard Fleur shifting in her bed. He rumbled in panic as she sat up and looked around.

"Owen? . . ."

He sunk into the shadows, sucking the ring into his cheek in order to free his tongue.

"Go back to sleep, Fleur."

She grinned and held Oos against her chest proudly.

"I don't feel sick anymore."

Owen took a shaky breath and forced a smile, though she couldn't see it in the darkness.

"That's good . . ."

She frowned and cocked her head, thinking hard about the reason behind her sudden improvement.

"Did _you_ fix me?"

Owen let out a long sigh.

"Fleur, can you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Take care of Claire for me."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"I . . . I don't know. But I won't be back for a very long time."

"How long?"

"Forev- Just for a long time, okay?"

She yawned and stretched out her arms.

"Okay. I'll take care of Claire until you get back. Don't forget about us while you're gone."

Owen smiled sadly.

"That would be impossible, Fleur."

He lumbered out the door, but realized too late that she could see his silhouette against the dimly-lit hallway. She bolted upright in bed with a hanging jaw.

"Owen! What's happened to you?"

He tucked his tail between his legs and scrambled backwards with shame and terror. Fleur reached out for him, dropping Oos.

"Wait! Owen, is that really you?"

He shook his head, not knowing what to say. Fleur batted her eyes, then sunk back into her pillow.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

He mooed quietly. The child sighed with disappointment and snuggled into her sheets.

"That's okay, then. I won't bother you. When I wake up, I'll tell Owen that I'm feeling better. Maybe he'll let me stay here until I can find a home."

Owen gazed at her through hopeless tears, and couldn't think of anything more to say. He had no reasonable strategy for explaining what had just transpired, nor did he want to admit that he truly was a dinosaur. All he could think to do was run away before she asked more questions.

Owen managed to leave the girl behind without any fuss. She was probably too tired to question what she assumed to be a dream, and it was a good thing, too. She'd likely inform the villagers of Owen's transformation if she knew he was real, which would be disastrous, to say the least. Luckily, he was going to make a clean escape.

Everyone in the castle was asleep except for Owen, and possibly Fleur, though she seemed ready to drift off when he'd left. No one would witness his departure, but before going through with his escape, he had one stop to make. As quietly as he could manage, he snuck back into his own room and stood by his bed, staring longingly at Claire, who was dreaming about something pleasant, judging by her peaceful expression. Owen smiled warmly, but it didn't take long for his expression to melt into a dismayed frown. Slowly, he placed his ring on her bedside table, wincing as it made a plink after slipping from his beak. Claire shifted a little, but did not wake up. Owen watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, and listened to a quiet breath passing through her gently parted lips. He reached out, and almost touched her, but decided against it at the last second. An animal like him had no right to graze someone so beautiful. It would be best to leave before his monstrosity sucked the goodness out of the castle that now belong to her alone.

He turned suddenly and slipped into the night, vanishing like a very large, very scaly phantom.


	6. Chapter 6

The bed was colder than usual when Claire awoke. She reached over to pull Owen closer, but her arm simply dropped to the flat, cool sheets where he should have been. This made her heart flip in panic. Never once had Owen left the bed before her, and the only thing she could think of that might prompt him to do so was if Fleur was on the verge of death.

Without missing a beat, Claire bolted out of bed and dashed down the hall. When she flung open the door to Fleur's room, she saw the child sitting on the floor, playing with wood figurines in the light that shone through her window. She beamed cheerfully.

"Claire! I'm all better!"

"That's- that's great, Sweetheart," Claire quavered, more than a little confused, "But where's Owen?"

"I dunno. I haven't seen him all morning."

Claire bit her lip.

"Me neither."

"When you find him, can you tell him I'm all better, and that I'm ready to play?"

Claire nodded absentmindedly.

"Sure, Sweetheart. Let me know if he stops by, okay?"

"Okay."

Claire marched back to her own room with agitation, teeth grinding nervously. Something was up, and she feared it was very serious, indeed. Owen didn't tend to be the kind of person who just left in the middle of the night, and during a village crisis, no less! In fact, he _never_ left Claire's side, period. As far as husbands went, he was the most devoted one Claire knew, and he clung to her constantly. There was no way he would just up and leave. He must have been kidnapped or taken prisoner by some foreign government, or perhaps captured as a hostage.

But then she saw his ring lying on the bedside table, and realized that this situation was far worse than she could have imagined.

Claire spent the rest of the day looking for her husband. None of the villagers had seen him since the night prior, and a heavy snowfall had erased any trail he might have left, assuming he had wandered out of the castle, which he probably had. Claire didn't know where else he _could_ be, considering she had searched every inch of the building. It was incredibly strange that he had left now, right in the middle of winter. Claire wondered if it had something to do with anxiety relating to the adoption of Fleur, but it just didn't add up. Owen adored the child, and what's more, he hadn't made a proper escape. Magnifique was still in the stables, so he must have made the journey on foot. Claire didn't intend to let him get away. She saddled the horse and journeyed through the snow, calling out to her missing husband.

She shouted and howled and screamed until her throat seemed ready to shatter, but still, there was no sign of Owen. She crossed her horse's own trail many times as she circled her property, but never encountered any human tracks. Wherever Owen was, he had escaped her reach, and all she could do was wallow in despair until he returned, or until he didn't.

Claire brought Magnifique into the stable with red eyes and tangled hair, looking even worse than she had after the fire. She removed the horse's bridle and stroked his muzzle, feeling fresh tears trickling down her cheeks.

"We'll find him, Magnifique. We'll find him."

When the horse was tucked away in his stall, Claire limped to the door with a quivering lip. Before she could exit, she had a sudden breakdown, falling to her knees and weeping in the thin layer of hay that was sprinkled across the ground. This had been a terrible month, but until now, she could at least count on Owen's support to get her through the rough patch. She wasn't sure who to trust anymore.

"Claire?"

She lifted her head. No one was at the stable door. Looking from side to side, she took a shaky breath and stood up, staggering a little.

"Owen? Is that you?"

"Yes."

She beamed as his voice came from a large pile of hay, which she approached with tears of joy.

"Owen, I was so worried! I thought you were-"

"DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!"

She froze, feeling her heart drop. The hay shifted. Put off by his sudden outburst, Claire laced her fingers together and scuffed the floor with the toe of her boot.

"Owen . . ."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout. I just don't want you to see me, that's all."

"Why not?"

There was no reply. Claire inched forward.

"Why not, Owen?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"I changed back."

She put her hand over her mouth.

"No . . ."

"Yes," he sighed, "I'm a dinosaur again. I'm sorry it had to end this way."

Claire batted her eyes, mouth agape.

"Sorry that _what_ had to end this way?"

"Everything."

Claire sighed and sat in front of the hay-mountain.

"Nothing is ending, Owen. We can figure this out."

"But I'm a dinosaur."

"Yeah, and I thought you were dead or lost or worse! Why didn't you tell me what had happened?"

"I wanted you to remember me as I was."

Claire batted her eyes.

"Remember you? Owen, you're not gone forever! . . . Unless you're implying that you don't want to be married anymore . . ."

The hay gave a little jump.

"Oh, Claire, _of course_ I want to be married, but how can you stand to love a monster like me?"

"Same way I did before. You're no monster, Owen."

"I have a tail."

"Not all monsters have tails, and not everyone with a tail is a monster."

"But I'm probably not going to change back."

Claire sighed.

"Owen, I told you I'd stick with you 'til the end, and I meant it. I don't care if you're a human or a dinosaur or a three-legged hippo: I just want you by my side, now and forever."

When he rumbled softly, she reached into the hay and placed her hand on his beak. He flinched at her touch, but she stroked his chin to calm him.

"Owen, can you please come out?"

"No. I'm not ready."

"Well, that's okay, but you can't stay in there forever."

"I didn't intend to. I was hoping to run away last night, but it was so cold . . ."

Claire sniffled.

"Please, Owen, don't leave me."

He leaned into her hand a little.

"I won't, Claire. I promise."

She nodded.

"Good. We can figure this out, Owen. This doesn't have to be the end of the world. I'll come visit you as much as I can, and when you're ready, we'll tell the others what happened."

"And then they'll put me out of my misery?"

Claire shook her head.

"I won't let them hurt you, Owen. If we tell them gently, I'm sure they'll understand."

He rumbled uncertainly. Claire bit her lip and brushed a layer of hay off his beak. When it was exposed, she leaned forward and gave it a kiss.

"Owen, I love you. Don't ever doubt that."

"I won't."

She smiled and patted him before standing up.

"Well, I guess I'd better get back. I haven't been home for a good three hours, and Fleur wanted to read a new book today- Oh! I forgot to tell you: she's doing much better. I think she'll pull through, after all."

"That's nice."

Claire smiled reassuringly.

"You know, I don't think she has anything against dinosaurs. As long as she has a father in some form or another, she won't know the difference."

"Okay."

Claire nodded.

"Don't give up hope. We'll fix this."

"Alright."

"Don't be so glum."

"Alright!"

She smiled.

"I'll be back in an hour or so. Keep yourself busy, and don't worry about a thing. Nothing will go wrong, if I can help it!"

Owen sighed.

"Famous last words."


	7. Chapter 7

Through the rest of the day, Claire had to come up with excuses as to why Owen wasn't present. In hindsight, she should have stuck to one story, because the town gossips ended up sharing whatever version they had been told, and soon, a good number of villagers turned to Claire for some sort of explanation when they discovered that their narratives did not align. She managed to weave all of her lies into one fabrication (Owen went out to look for something to eat and brought Magnifique along to feed him but sent the horse back in order to spy on a nearby pack of wolves who were standing around the lake he used to harvest ice while also doing laundry), and although they seemed to buy this tall tale, Claire couldn't help but feel like it only made things worse. She didn't want to hide the fact that Owen was a dinosaur, but she knew that telling the villagers directly would lead to another period of accusations. It wasn't exactly considered normal to take the side of a dinosaur. Claire herself had been frightened by Owen when they first met, but it was easy to forget about that, since they had spent so many wonderful months together. She had to remind herself that from their point of view, he was a monster.

Still, thinking about his gentle smile and kind eyes, she was dumbfounded at the notion that he was somehow a villain to the others. He was so humble and sweet that it didn't really matter if he was physically large and imposing. Why couldn't people see past his shape and pay attention to what was _really_ important?

Claire suddenly realized that this was how Owen must have felt during the dinosaur portion of his life, only now he had someone to share the burden of his secret existence. That was better than nothing, Claire supposed, and she was proud to support him in his time of need. She just hoped that he wouldn't do anything stupid to try and remedy his poor relationship with the villagers, only to make everything worse. Owen was well-meaning, but he had a tendency to not think things through, and when there was very little time to make a decision, he often chose the wrong option. For instance, he had basically kidnapped Claire after they first met, and this act had nearly destroyed any hope of her giving him the benefit of the doubt. Then again, things turned out wonderfully, not that it would be a good idea to mass-kidnap the villagers. The best course of action was to break it to them gently, and if they could accept Owen for what he was, he might be able to accept himself. Claire knew it was possible, because she loved him dearly, and this love made him forget that he was supposed to be a vile, hybrid creature by human standards.

With this in mind, Claire sat with the women of the village, who were sewing near the fireplace. She herself was no seamstress, but she knew enough to blunder her way through a shirt for a few minutes, giving her the opportunity to subtly bring up the positive attributes of her dinosaur husband. She set down her needle and smiled methodically.

"You know that story about the red monster who lives in the woods?"

"The one you claimed to have met in person?" said an old woman.

"And who was supposedly very nice?" added another.

"And whom you later said was simply a story you made up because you were upset with James?" finished a third.

Claire winced.

"Yeah . . ."

"It's okay, Claire. We don't blame you for going crazy," a girl named Floraison said warmly, "It must have been hard on you to lose James to Marie so soon after your mother's death."

Claire bit her lip.

"Actually-"

"She didn't mind!" interrupted Sableuse, "She had Owen, after all, and he's ten times better than James."

Claire smiled.

"He is, but-"

"She oughtn't to have made up a monster, then, much less tell us he was kind and gentle," argued Floraison.

"I-"

"Who _cares_ what she said?" Sableuse snorted, "That's all in the past."

"But she never explained it properly!"

"You can't explain a mental breakdown!"

"Says who?"

"Me!"

Claire stood up.

"Enough! Don't fight amongst yourselves. It's not worth arguing over something like this."

Floraison sneered.

"Maybe you shouldn't have lied to us, then."

"I didn't- I mean- I was-"

Floraison rolled her eyes as Claire stuttered.

" _Was_ there a monster or _wasn't_ there, Claire? Either you made it all up or some creature put you under his spell and made you say nice things about him."

"That's ridiculous!" Claire snapped, "And what if it's more complicated than that?"

"Like if the monster was genuinely kind, you mean?"

"Sure."

"I doubt any red beast who devours children could be considered kind."

"And what if he never devoured children? What if it was a misunderstanding?"

Claire yelped as a deep voice came from the shadows.

"It was no misunderstanding."

James stepped into the light.

"The Crimson Beast is real, and he ate my best friend."

Claire gulped.

"But- But did you _see_ it happen?"

"I didn't _have_ to. I played with my friend by the lake almost every day. We used reeds to fight in the place of swords. One day, he vanished. When next I heard his voice, it came from the monster, though he was much smaller then."

Claire put her hands on her lap, fidgeting anxiously.

"What if they just had the same voice?"

James' face darkened.

"Are you defending the monster?"

Claire frowned defiantly.

"Maybe I am. You have no proof that he's evil, or that he even exists."

"I shot him in the woods. He bled on the leaves, but I lost his trail once he swam across the lake. I painted my quiver with his blood. The next time we meet, I'll take more than a few drops."

Claire's veins turned to ice. She suddenly felt very unsafe near the man she'd known for most of her life.

"You're weak, Claire. I have no time for your wild, emotional delusions."

"Excuse me?!"

"Don't forget that your sex is prone to irrational behavior, and more susceptible to fear. You shouldn't let these girlish fantasies cloud your otherwise reasonable mind. I was almost beginning to respect you before you went off the deep end."

Claire ground her teeth.

"How dare you-"

"You should learn to hold your tongue. It's no wonder your husband has kept away from you all day. I can't imagine how he's able to tolerate such behavior. Perhaps he has no self-respect."

"Don't talk about Owen that way!"

James shook his head.

"I'll say what I want, Claire, because unlike you, people respect me. I've protected this village for many years, never once endangering us by putting my trust in demons and monsters. Perhaps you should rethink your priorities, and decide where your loyalties lie."

He marched out of the room, leaving the women in shocked silence. Claire glared at where she had last seen him standing, but gradually, she began to shake, and her lip quivered, though she tried to stop it. She buried her face in her sleeve and collapsed on a red armchair.

"I can't cry. If I cry, he wins."

Sableuse knelt in front of her and held her shoulders.

"That's not true, Claire. He's wrong about you. _Anyone_ would cry after being abused like that. It's just that no one's brave enough to say these things to James."

"Because people respect him. Nobody respects _me_."

" _We_ do."

Claire wiped her eyes.

"So if I told you there really was a kind and gentle dinosaur in the woods, would you believe me?"

She knew the answer before she saw the way they avoided her gaze.


	8. Chapter 8

Claire still couldn't get used to sleeping without Owen by her side. She missed the way he draped his arm over her shoulder and nuzzled the back of her head, mumbling softly in his sleep. He had nightmares more often than she did, and she couldn't imagine how frightened he must be in the stables with no one but Magnifique to keep him company. He was ten times as cold and lonely as she was, in all likelihood. He needed her more than she needed him, and she needed him _very_ badly. Her night had been restless, and she hated to think about what Owen must be going through. It was killing both of them to be apart.

Claire sighed and slipped out of bed, making her way over to the vanity. She sat in front of the mirror and began to brush her hair, but found that the sight of her sitting alone in the reflection made her feel empty and lost. She stared at herself for a moment, disheartened by how tired she looked. She needed Owen. Badly.

Standing up with a newfound resolve, Claire marched down to the foyer to tell everyone about her dinosaur husband. She was sick and tired of hiding a secret that by all means shouldn't be an issue, and if the villagers reacted poorly, she could always give them the boot. She would not tolerate such cruelty when she and her husband had done their best to be hospitable in times of crisis.

As Claire reached the bottom of the staircase, however, she heard a loud cry. Her hand gripped the railing tightly when she identified it.

 _MEU!_

Her heart pounded rapidly.

"Owen? . . ." she whispered.

 _MEU!_

"OWEN!"

She dashed down the hall and out the front entranceway, ignoring the fact that her slippers were not suitable winter-wear. She stumbled around the corner of the castle and gasped. Owen was thundering across the frozen garden, mooing in panic, pursued by James, who was armed with a crossbow. Claire screamed as a shaft shot through the air and pierced Owen's front leg.

"MEU!"

He stumbled, but kept running. Tears brimmed at Claire's eyes. She rushed towards James, waving her hands frantically.

"STOP! STOP IT, JAMES!"

He turned.

"That monster was hiding in the stables! It's time to end this!"

Claire shrieked and tried to grab the crossbow from his hands.

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

He pushed her back, and she fell in the snow.

"Hush! There's nothing to be understood. Not when _you're_ talking."

He dashed away before she could think of a reply. After a moment of horrified silence, she got to her feet and sprinted after him.

Owen, meanwhile, was weaving between the trees, huffing and puffing as he fled, driven by animal instinct. His injured leg felt ready to give in, but the pain made him all the more determined to escape. When he burst into a clearing, he nearly lost his footing, but not because of the arrow in his shank. He had emerged from the forest on a frozen lake, which seemed thick enough to support the weight of a human. For a moment, he forgot that this did not mean he was safe. When the ice began to groan and crack beneath him, his heart did a flip. There was more pressing danger, however, for James had caught up to him, and was taking aim. He stalked his prey with his head tilted above the crossbow. The arrow was pointed at Owen's heart. He backed away with a curved spine.

"No . . ."

"This ends here."

As James fired, Claire leapt out of the brush and knocked him to the side. The arrow bounced off the ice, making a tiny dent. Claire grabbed James' weapon and threw it into the trees. When he attempted to retrieve it, she grabbed him by the arm and struck him across the face.

"You idiot! That's my husband!"

James rubbed his jaw.

"You're talking nonsense, woman. That _thing_ is a monster."

Owen crept forward on the ice.

"She's telling the truth. I know it's hard to believe, but I was cursed by fairies in the place of my father, and-"

"LIES! You ate my best friend!"

Owen whinnied.

"I _am_ your best friend!"

"Prove it!"

"I don't know how! Look, I'd be more than happy to convince you of my innocence, but Claire's in her pajamas and I'm bleeding out of my arm, so maybe we should put a pin in this conversation and get indoors."

"You just want to get close to the villagers so you can eat them!"

"I'm a herbivore!"

Claire rubbed her arms, teeth chattering.

"James, be reasonable. All he wants to do is talk."

He clenched his fists.

"Your mind has been poisoned by dark magic. I will free you from his sorcery. Our kingdom will be rid of this vile beast, once and for all."

"James-"

He pulled a knife from his belt and lunged forward. Owen slipped away with panic, legs scrambling on the ice as he struggled to turn himself around. Just when James was about to slice his throat, Claire tackled him, and the knife fell from his hand. Owen made a dash for it, but as he crossed the frozen lake, jagged veins cut through the ice beneath his feet. He froze. Claire shoved James to the side and reached for her husband.

"Get on your belly!"

Slowly, Owen lowered himself to the ground, wincing as the ice crackled. Taking short, shallow breaths, he made himself as flat as possible. Claire waved him forward.

"Good, now slide to me."

Owen did as he was told, but James stood up suddenly and made a dash for the knife. Claire attempted to slow him down, but James backhanded her cheek, and she fell forward with a bleeding lip. Seeing this, Owen roared and flung James to the side using his horns. He landed in the snow.

 _CRACK._

During the toss, Owen had reared up on his hind legs, and the lake was splintering so fiercely that water spilled from the gaps in the ice. After a beat, the surface gave in, and Owen sunk until his waist was submerged in fluid so cold that it burned. In his panic, he grabbed Claire, who was much too small to serve as an anchor. She fell in with him.

Owen tried to pull himself up, but his front feet simply broke off additional chunks of ice, creating more confusion. He was hanging by his elbows now, and Claire was splashing beside him, wedged between crooked slices of frost and mush.

"Owen!"

He didn't seem to hear her. His eyes were wild. He slammed his front feet against the shattered lake desperately, but only made things worse. Claire dipped below the surface to help him up, but when she pushed on his side, he became more frantic than ever. One of his spasming feet caught her on the side of her head, and she went limp, spinning slowly underwater. Owen had managed to figure out that if he broke a path to the shore, he could pull himself up on solid ground. He crushed his way to safety, and when he was able to touch the base of the lake, he climbed into the snow, shivering fiercely. The animalistic fear faded in his eyes, and was replaced with another kind of terror.

"Claire? . . ."

He looked around, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Claire?!"

James burst from the water, holding Claire in his arms. Her eyes were closed and her body was limp. Owen shuffled down to the border of the lake, pacing anxiously as James carried his wife across the ice. He passed Owen in silence, and they both made their way to the castle. James walked with a tight-set jaw and a steady pace, but Owen darted around him like a sparrow, muttering nervously.

"Is she okay? What's wrong with her? Why isn't she awake? What happened back there?"

James did not answer. When he reached the castle's entrance, he slammed the door in Owen's face. He whined and scratched his front feet on the wood, but received no invitation inside. After a few minutes, James returned with a rope. Owen lowed in fear and tried to escape, but was lassoed in a matter of seconds. James pulled a wooden post from the garden's bare archway and stuck it in the ground, stomping on it fiercely. He tied Owen to the beam and sneered.

"You've killed her."

Owen went stiff.

"No . . ."

"She's going to freeze to death because of you."

Owen was horrified, but after a second, he tugged on his rope.

" _Going_ to? You mean she's still alive?"

"Not for long."

Owen began to dig out the pike he was fastened to.

"Let me go! I have to see her!"

"I won't allow it."

His tail thrashed back and forth.

"Let me see her! Let me see my wife!"

James drove his boot into Owen's gut, making him keel over. He stood above the dinosaur with a hateful glare.

"You will cease to corrupt her with your unrighteousness. She will die a good Christian woman, free from your hellish influence. I will not let you drag her down to the underworld. You keep your filthy paws off her, you mongrel!"

Owen took a shaky breath.

"I didn't mean to hurt her. She needs me."

"No, _you_ need _her_ , and I won't let another innocent soul fall prey to the red demon who's been plaguing our village for over a decade. You have taken your last victim, beast, but her eternal soul may yet be saved."

Owen stood up unsteadily.

"James, I'm not a monster. All I want is to be with her."

"You're disgusting."

"I _love_ her, James."

He shook his head.

"Creatures like you are not capable of love. If you had any semblance of affection for Claire, you would have stayed away from her. It was bad enough that you held her prisoner for a year, but now you've taken her life, and you must be punished for it. I will return with the villagers to put an end to your reign of terror. Should you attempt to escape before then, my good friend Maboul will strike you down from his position in the tower. Either way, your execution will mark the end of our suffering."

Owen did not argue this. Truth be told, he would welcome a hail of arrows, knowing he was responsible for the death of the woman he loved.


	9. Chapter 9

Owen sat in the snow, facing away from his castle with a limp rope leading back to the post restraining him. Two trails of frozen tears split his cheeks. His rear was only slightly colder than the rest of his body, but he didn't bother changing position. His head and plates were hanging, and he seemed to be generally deflated, if one could be emotionally deflated. He wasn't really thinking about the frostbite or his emotional turmoil, though he was certainly being torn apart. He was mostly distressed because of Claire's death, and couldn't imagine going on without her. What did it matter whether he froze to death now? If anything, he'd be with Claire, and he'd be able to tell her how sorry he was for letting his animal instincts take over, essentially murdering the person he loved most in the world, though he didn't intend to. This thought rang in his head over and over.

You killed Claire. You killed Claire.

He didn't try to block it out, because he knew it was true. Part of him didn't want to admit that he was welcoming this suffering, but he was sure that he deserved to be punished for his crime. It wasn't like he had a reason to live, anyway. He may as well fester in this dismal reflection, until his body ceased to function in the extremely cold weather.

"Owen!"

He lifted his chin a little, wondering if he was hallucinating. The voice came again.

"Owen!"

He turned and saw Claire dashing through the snow, arms extended and fingers spread. His jaw dropped, and he tugged on his rope as she approached him. The post shot out of the ground unexpectedly, smacking him on the back of the head, and he stumbled over to his wife dizzily.

"Claire? . . ."

She untied the rope, then ran her hand over his scales.

"Owen! You're freezing!"

He sniffled.

"I thought you were dead . . ."

Claire knelt in front of him, draping her shawl across his shoulders.

"No, I was just unconscious. What have they been telling you?"

Owen gulped.

"They . . . Claire, even though you're alive, what I did could have gotten you killed."

"But it didn't."

"Claire, I hurt you."

"And I clubbed you with a stick once. Let's just call it even."

Owen gave a sad rumble as she smiled comfortingly.

"Claire, I don't think this is very funny."

"Don't be so dour. You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then come inside and be with me. You know I don't want to lose you."

"Lose me?"

"If you stay out here any longer, you'll freeze."

He wondered if she had guessed his secret plan. By the look on her face, he could tell that she was going to try and convince him to follow her, regardless of his stubbornness. She was methodical in her approach.

"Owen, aren't you happy to see me?"

"Happier than I can say."

"And I'm happy to see you, too."

"I hope so."

He shook his head quickly.

"I mean-"

"Come inside, Owen. Let's be happy together. I need you. Don't let me down."

He gulped.

"What if the villagers don't want me? . . . What if I deserve to freeze for what I did to you?"

Claire held him by the cheeks and gave him her "serious look".

"Owen, if you die, I will be sad. Do you want to make me sad?"

"No."

"Then come inside."

Reluctantly, he followed her through the front door, back hunched and tail dragging. She led him to the dining hall, where most of the villagers had gathered. Some stood up to greet Claire, looking relieved that she was awake, but when Owen appeared behind her, they stumbled backwards in fear. He sat down behind her, and she took a deep breath.

"The red demon you've been told about does not exist. The dinosaur living in the woods has always been none other than Owen. He is not a monster, and he does not wish to harm any of you. He's been living in fear ever since he took on the curse of another, and because you refused to look past the shape that was forced upon him, he was exiled. He's spent fifteen years trying to reconnect with you, and that was only made possible when he became human again. Now, he's changed back, and he's fallen prey to your prejudice and unfounded hatred. He's still the same Owen he always was, and always has been, so if you don't want to accept that he's a dinosaur now, you can very well get up and leave. This castle is our home, and I will not stand for this blatant discrimination towards someone who's welcomed you into his dwelling at great risk to himself. If you want charity, you'd better be prepared to show your gratitude."

Silence. Claire's face remained stern, but her heart was racing. Could this be the beginning of an insurrection? Would she find herself hanging in the middle of town tomorrow, or else impaled on a wooden stake? She didn't get the chance to find out, for the side door opened, and Fleur came skipping into the room with her caretaker. She stopped when she caught sight of Owen. After a beat, her face brightened, and she rushed over to hug his snout, unaware that at least five people were trying to hold her back. She collided with the dinosaur and pet him like a horse, laughing gleefully as his nostrils twitched.

"I knew it was you, Owen! I knew you saved me, and I knew it wasn't a dream! Aren't I clever for figuring it out? Did I pass your test?"

Owen blinked, still aware of the villagers watching him.

"It wasn't a test, Fleur. I was trying to keep it a secret."

"But why?"

"It's hard to explain."

She put her hands on her hips.

"Well, you should have trusted me not to tell on you. All you had to do was say you didn't want anyone to know you saved my life, and I wouldn'a said anything to anyone."

Owen gulped.

"You kind of just did."

Fleur's face fell.

"Oh . . . Well, why is that a secret, anyway? What's so bad about helping others?"

Claire turned to look at him, just as surprised as everyone else in the room.

"You saved her?"

Owen gave a sad rumble and looked down.

"I used the magic flower to cure her. That's why I'm a dinosaur. I didn't want you to know because I thought you'd be angry."

"For saving someone's life?"

He batted his eyes.

"Well, when you put it like that . . ."

From the back of the room, Sableuse stood up and cleared her throat.

"Owen, are you trying to say that you're a dinosaur because you saved Fleur's life?"

He gulped.

"Well, I was trying NOT to say it, but it's true . . ."

Floraison stood up and stamped her foot.

"Impossible! James said you're a monster who eats children and steals voices."

"Yeah, well, he also said that Claire was dead, so I think we can deduce that maybe he's wrong sometimes," Owen snapped.

"James has been serving this village all winter!" an old woman barked.

"So has Owen!" Claire argued, "James may have good intentions, but sometimes, he makes mistakes."

"How do we know you're not being possessed by this monster?" a burly man grumbled.

Owen flinched at the remark, but Claire stood her ground. She opened her mouth to make some nasty (and probably unhelpful) comment, but Sableuse stepped in front of her defensively.

"Claire doesn't act like a woman possessed. I think we'd know if there was something wrong with her. Her story adds up, and if she's telling the truth, then we're in the wrong. When has the red demon of James' story ever harmed us directly? The only evil deeds we can attribute to his name are secondhand accounts, and most lack sufficient evidence to be believed. Claire came to us a year ago saying the red demon was friendly, and we laughed at her. It's no wonder she tried to hide this from us. Now, it's perfectly possible that James is right, but it's also equally possible that Claire is. If we don't give her a fair shot, we could end up fighting for the wrong side. I know we all trust James, but he's not the only one who's done right by us. Look at where we are now. Claire invited us into her home, and Owen did the same, knowing full well that if his secret got out, we'd turn on him. But we're not animals. We don't attack someone just for having a tail and horns. Not when he's been so kind to us."

Owen smiled gently, but his face fell when James entered the room. Maboul slithered behind him, eyes shifting from villager to villager.

"With all due respect, Miss Sableuse, I have witnessed what this monster can do. He murdered my friend and stole his voice."

Claire crossed her arms.

"And did you actually see this happen?"

"My friend disappeared and the demon came back with his voice. How do you explain that?"

"Owen was always your friend, right from the start. He changed shape because of the fairies that cursed him in the place of his father."

James scowled.

"He almost killed you."

"That was an accident."

"I'm sure."

"James, you threatened to shoot him. Don't you think his panic attack may have had something to do with the fact that he was terrified of being murdered?"

Owen stepped forward, trying to stop his knees from knocking.

"James, give me a chance to prove myself. I promise I'm not here to eat your soul or steal your voice or whatever. You trusted me when I was human, so why can't you give me the opportunity to change your mind? All I'm asking for is one chance. Just one."

"And if I'm right?"

"Then I'll surrender."

James narrowed his eyes.

"Very well, but I won't allow you to remain in close proximity to your prey. You'll sleep in the stables."

Claire's jaw dropped.

"That's ridiculous! Owen is-"

Owen held her back nervously.

"No, it's okay. If that's what he wants, I'll do it."

Claire turned to him with disbelief. She looked like she was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"But you're my husband! You're not just some kind of animal . . ."

He nodded.

"I know, but we need to ease them into it, remember?"

She gave him a worried look. He winked.

"It's okay. I'll be fine."

But later that night, as he lay shivering in the stables, he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.


	10. Chapter 10

Claire felt like a traitor leaving Owen in the stables all night, but she feared if she visited him in secret the villagers would believe she was conspiring with the monster they so feared. Aside from Sableuse, very few people trusted Owen in this shape, though Claire hoped they'd change their minds. They didn't seem wary of Owen in the same way James was, for their fear was dependent on James' belief that Owen was evil. Claire tried not to be bitter, but it was frustrating to know that the fate of her husband depended on James' verdict predominantly, and since he was so closed-minded, his peers were as well. She didn't want James to blindly accept Owen, per se, but she wished he'd at least give him a chance. If he remained firm in his beliefs, so would the more gullible villagers.

She made her way to the kitchen with these thoughts buzzing around in her head, and she found herself getting frustrated to the point where she felt like kicking something. It was all so unfair, and not even for a good reason. Owen's exclusion was based on politics and rigid dogmas that would prove difficult to rethink for some. The problem with their hatred was that it was as natural as breathing to them, and they genuinely thought poor Owen was a monster because of his shape. Claire had tried pointing out the painfully obvious, but it seemed to be all for naught. Luckily, as she started making herself breakfast, Sableuse entered the kitchen and gave her a hug. Claire burst into tears, and was surprised to find that converting her anger to sorrow was much more therapeutic than letting frustration consume her. She was lucky that the person who found her was the only one who genuinely believed her without hesitation. Sableuse patted her back and rocked her back and forth.

"Shhh . . . It's okay. It's okay, honey. We'll get through this."

Claire hiccoughed.

"It's so hard, Sableuse. I'm trying not to get mad at them, but they just don't understand. If I lose my temper, it'll only hurt my cause, but they don't seem to listen either way."

"I know, honey, I know. The only proof they look for is evidence that supports their beliefs, and if you make a mistake, they'll home in on it like wolves. But don't lose hope, dearie. Not everyone believes James. No matter how many people turn away from you, they can always be brought back, and in the meantime, I'm here."

Claire sniffled and wiped her eye by running the tips of her fingers over it quickly.

"I just want my husband back. Why can't they see how much he means to me?"

"They will in time. It's just Owen, after all. Nothing to be afraid of."

Claire nodded.

"He's more afraid of them. Poor thing."

Sableuse smiled.

"Well, let's not keep him waiting, then. Why don't you bring him breakfast, and I'll draw a bath."

Claire smiled.

"Thanks for understanding."

"That's what friends are for."

Feeling somewhat better, Claire brought a stack of toast to Owen, but found someone had beat her to the stables. Fleur was standing in front of Owen's pen with an apple in her hand, rubbing his snout as he leaned over the gate to take a bite. Claire quirked a brow.

"Someone's being spoiled."

Fleur yelped and jumped a little, and Owen snorted. Claire smiled and leaned against the doorway.

"It's okay. I come bearing gifts."

She held up a piece of toast loosely.

". . . If you're still hungry, that is . . ."

Owen licked his beak.

"I'm always hungry."

Fleur smiled and scratched his chin.

"Owen needs to be fed more often, now that he's a dinosaur."

Claire laughed.

"Is that so?"

"Mhm. He eats apples just like a horse. He doesn't have a mane to brush, though."

"Would you like him better if he did?"

"Well, I always wanted a pony."

Owen burst out laughing. Claire set the plate on the ground and crossed her arms, smiling.

"Owen's not a pony, Fleur. He's the same as before, just in a different body."

Owen winked.

"I don't know about that. If Fleur wants a pony, I can make do, though I prefer the term 'stallion' . . ."

Fleur grinned and rubbed his snout. She giggled as he made a horse noise and blew air in her face. Claire rolled her eyes.

"Well, Ponyboy, I hate to cut the fun short, but Sableuse has a bath ready for you."

Fleur pouted.

"But I was gonna brush him."

"You just said he doesn't have a mane."

"He doesn't need one. I can use the horse brush on his scales."

"I don't think he'd like that very much, sweetheart."

Owen chuckled.

"I don't mind. I'm just glad someone here wants to make me feel welcome."

Claire's smile shifted. She sighed and put her hand on his neck.

"Let's not keep Sableuse waiting."

As it turned out, they were not allowed in the castle. James had changed his terms overnight, and although Claire was ready to push back, Owen agreed to his demands with an overly pleasant yet restrained smile. He was trying hard to regain James' trust, but Claire could see that it was a futile effort. Owen would continue to be a doormat and James would continue to bully him. It was a cycle with no clear escape route, or at least no pacifistic ways of solving the problem. Although this predicament was taking a toll on Owen, he didn't let it show. He played with Fleur the whole afternoon, giving her pony rides and pretending to count with his feet. For a while, he seemed to forget the other villagers, but when he was once again locked away, he was reminded how little faith they had in him.

That night, Claire lay tossing and turning in bed. She thrashed around trying to get comfortable, but it was no use. With a frustrated growl, she flung off her covers and stumbled into the hall with exhaustion. Staggering to the front entranceway, she fumbled around for her coat and boots and trudged to the stables. Once there, she kicked off her shoes and lumbered over to Owen, who was also awake. She climbed on top of him and lay flat on his belly, sighing with relief. Owen was worried that she'd be caught, but despite this fear, he was happy she was with him. They felt the exact same way about this development, and though there was a risk involved, they decided not to leave each other. Without speaking a single word, they settled into the hay and fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Claire was enjoying the warmth of Owen's embrace when she became half-awake. It was a peaceful morning, she decided.

Or maybe it was night.

She wasn't sure.

No, there was light, so it must be morning.

Footsteps.

She regained consciousness fully when a voice shattered the silence and rattled her eardrums.

"YOU LAY WITH AN ANIMAL!"

Claire thrashed around in panic, feeling Owen do the same. She noticed James standing over them, though his face was blurry in her vision. She rubbed her eyes quickly.

"YOU LAY WITH AN ANIMAL!" he repeated.

Claire's jaw dropped as her hands did.

"I did nothing of the sort! . . . and don't you mean 'laid'? What's the proper phrasing of that sen-"

She shrieked as James grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across the hay. Owen lowed in fury and chased after him.

"Let go of my wife!"

"You won't claim her, vile monster of hell! She must be purged of your poisonous seed."

Owen skidded to a stop.

"Poisonous seed? . . ."

Claire tore herself away from James.

"He thinks we slept together!"

"We did."

After a beat, Owen's eyes went wide.

"Oh! I didn't mean it like that! I'm not even sure how that would work . . ."

Suddenly, James pulled a pitchfork out of a nearby bale of hay and jabbed it at Owen. He backed up against the wall, feet slipping in the straw. James gnashed his teeth.

"This ends now!"

"Can we not, though? Can we not end it now?" Owen yelped.

Claire screamed as James made another lunge. He held his weapon against Owen's throat.

"You killed my friend."

Owen took a shaky breath.

"James, I've already told you: I am your friend."

"How dare you tarnish his memory with your deception . . ."

"I'm serious. I'm your friend. I always have been. I tried to tell you once, but you had the adults chase me away."

James was shaking with rage.

"You're disgusting. Even now, you try to sully his name."

"I don't know what that word means."

Claire whimpered and covered her mouth as James pressed the points harder against Owen's throat. He spoke despite the pressure.

"James, you don't know what it was like to lose you. You were my only friend in the village. Everyone else thought I was trying to be better than them. When you sent the hunters after me, it broke my heart. I returned to my mother crying. She warned me not to be seen, but I wouldn't listen. I wanted to see you. You don't know how much it meant to me, visiting you whenever I went into town. I didn't want to lose that. I thought if anyone would understand what had happened to me, it would be you. I thought you would trust me, since I'm your friend."

"You're not my friend."

"I am!"

"Prove it."

"How?"

"Tell me why you always let me win."

Owen batted his eyes.

"What?"

"Tell me why you always let me win when we fought with reeds by the lake."

Owen's jaw quavered a bit.

"You . . . You wouldn't know why. I never told you. How did you kn-"

"If you're really my friend, you'll have an answer."

Owen's eyes grew desperate.

"But if you don't know the answer, what's to say you won't kill me if you don't like my confession? How will you know I'm telling the truth?"

"I'll know."

Owen stared at him, praying he'd change his mind. Claire silently willed him to say something- anything- to appease James. Out of nowhere, Owen's face softened.

"James, I can't-"

With a furious cry, James pulled the pitchfork back, but as he prepared for a stab, Owen lowed and ducked out of the way. He charged out of the stables and plowed through the snow, kicking up a white cloud. James followed, but made a sudden dash for the castle out of nowhere. Owen looked back with confusion.

All of a sudden, he fell forward, screaming in pain. His hind leg was being held in place by a chain, one end of which led to a peg in the ground, and the other, to a set of metal jaws that clamped his flesh. Owen lowed fearfully, animal instincts taking over once again, but pulling only made the pain worse. He hopped backwards to give the chain some slack, snorting loudly. As he began to assess the situation, James appeared with a rifle, and the villagers trickled out of the castle behind him, gathering around the panicked dinosaur.

It was then that Owen realized this had all been a trap, or perhaps only a fraction of the plan was a ruse, and the rest of the details just happened to work out in James' favor. Maboul had of course set the metal trap on castle grounds, which meant that some sinister intent was involved. It was likely that James had been planning to lead Owen to the field and injure him, giving him an excuse to "put him down". In any case, Owen was about to be slaughtered in front of the villagers, and there was nothing he could do to escape.

Some men were howling for his blood, while others seemed disgusted by this violent display, but no one intervened. Fleur pushed through the crowd, screaming with red eyes and a running nose, but Sableuse snatched her up as she reached out for her adoptive father, pressing her face into her shoulder so she would not have to witness the killing.

Claire was clawing at James, screaming "That's my husband! That's my husband!". She pounded her fists against him, but he didn't seem to be concerned with her. Soon, Claire was swallowed up by the crowd. When she filtered out the opposite side of the mob, she met Owen's gaze. He tried to channel some comforting emotion, but he suspected he appeared just as terrified as he felt. Claire looked around in desperation. When she spotted an axe, she took it in both hands. Instead of attacking James like Owen expected, she ran into the woods, brandishing her weapon clumsily above her head as she stumbled through the snow. Those who saw this were confused, but as long as she wasn't attacking anyone, it didn't seem to matter what she was up to.

Despite everything, Owen was glad that Claire wasn't going to murder James. He wasn't really mad about the execution, but more disappointed. He felt like he had failed to prove his worth in some way, and although Claire was keen to pin the blame on James, Owen didn't think it was his fault that it would end this way. No one deserved the blame, really. It was just the way things turned out, because coincidence and misfortune had led to a situation where an innocent man would be murdered by his former best friend. There was nothing to do but accept his fate.

But as James took aim, the earth began to shake with heavy footfall. Everyone noticed except for Owen and James, until the latter was knocked off his feet by a massive figure. His gun went off, harming no one, but startling all into silence. In the moments that followed, the villagers began to register what had come to pass. Owen, who had had his eyes closed, was stunned when he opened them and saw another dinosaur standing in the field. Her scales were green as summer grass, and her frill was a very familiar shade of red. When she met his gaze, his mouth hung open.

"Claire? . . ."

She walked forward slowly and touched her front horn against his. Tears brimmed in his eyes.

"Claire, what have you done to yourself? . . ."

She took an unsteady breath and lifted her head to address the villagers.

"I've been to the dark part of the forest. I chopped down a tree, and the fairies changed my shape. I'm not a monster, and neither is Owen. Now you have proof."

There was chatter among the villagers. Owen was still looking up at his newly-changed wife with horror. James reached for his gun, but paused when Sableuse approached Claire. She looked her over, patting her sides and testing the weight of her tail, then pried her mouth open. Claire snuffed and licked her beak. Sableuse pulled back with amazement.

"It's Claire!"

Excited murmurs. Things seemed to be going well. James glowered and stamped his foot.

"Liar! Claire's been possessed by the demon, that's all!"

No one seemed to believe him. His eyes darted back and forth, and after careful consideration, he took a deep breath.

"Well . . . Perhaps I was wrong. This hideous monster could be Claire in another shape."

She frowned.

"I am. And I'm not happy. Let Owen back into his home. He's always been one of us. For the love of god, take that vile trap off his foot if you have any shame whatsoever!"

James' face pulled into a cunning smile.

"As you wish."

He strolled over to the metal jaws and forced them open without warning Owen. He gasped and scrunched up his snout, then started shaking as he bled out. Claire ran over and licked his wounds, but he nudged her away calmly. He stood up on shaky legs, but held himself with valiant deliberation as he faced James. As Owen lifted his chin, his rival leaned forward with a sneer.

"You may think you've won, but this won't last long. The villagers will come around eventually. When they do, I'll make sure to bleed you slowly. You'll look wonderful when you're stuffed and mounted on my wall."

Owen said nothing, but continued to hold his gaze. His stance was firm and stoic, but when James walked far enough, he wheeled around and limped hurriedly over to the bushes, where he threw up. Claire rested her chin on his back. When Owen finished coughing, he looked at his wife with wet eyes.

"I shouldn't have believed in the charity of humans."

Claire bit her beak.

"Owen, don't listen to James. He can't-"

"I should have let you leave my garden. I dragged you into this. Now you're worse off than me. I shouldn't have believed in you. I shouldn't have let you stay."

She held him as he cried.


	12. Chapter 12

Claire decided she could get used to this whole dinosaur thing. Ever since she reentered the castle, she had been absolutely pampered, and was now enjoying a footbath as the ladies asked questions about her transformation. She sat with a warm towel around her shoulders and her toes soaking in a bubbly tub, feeling rather pleased with herself.

"You're so brave, Claire. I don't think _I'd_ be able to change," Floraison marveled.

"Well, it wasn't a matter of bravery, per se," Claire admitted, "I'd do anything to save Owen. Being a dinosaur isn't even that bad, especially considering he's one too. The last thing I want is for him to feel alone like he did before he met me."

Fleur hugged her knees.

"Do dinosaur families have to be _all_ dinosaurs?"

Claire didn't understand her question at first, but when she gleaned her implied meaning, she reached out and ran her foot down her back, forgetting that it was wet.

"No, sweetheart. Family can be anything. Owen and I would be happy to have you."

"Are you sure? Owen seems really sad."

It was true. After his leg was properly bandaged, Owen had disappeared to his room, and hadn't been seen since. Claire wondered if he would be willing to join her and the ladies, or if he needed some time alone. Most likely, solitude wouldn't be good for him.

"Fleur, Owen isn't sad because of you. He's sad because he thinks no one will like him as a dinosaur. We just need to let him know that everything's alright."

"Should I go see him?"

"Maybe later. I'd like to speak with him first."

Claire dried her feet and thanked the women, then climbed up to Owen's room. The door was open, and Owen was sitting in darkness with his eyes fixed on the ground, though he was not looking at anything in particular. She wondered if he knew she had entered, but when she got close enough, he spoke without turning to look at her.

"This is all my fault."

Claire gave a sad rumble and nudged his shoulder. He didn't react.

"If I had just run away like I intended, you would still be human."

"But I wouldn't have _you_ . . ."

He ignored this comment.

"I don't know why I thought I had the right to be in love with you when I was a dinosaur, both now and when we first met. If I had any decency, I wouldn't have brought you into my life. I was selfish."

"But I _want_ to be a part of your life . . ."

"Now you're just like me. I was so busy trying to be human that I didn't realize it would come at the cost of another person's humanity. Now we're both monsters."

"You're not a monster."

He didn't reply. Claire bit her beak.

"Do you think I'm ugly?"

He lifted his head suddenly.

"No! Never!"

She cocked her head.

"Well, if you still love me, what's the problem?"

"You're a dinosaur."

"So are you."

"Yeah."

"But you still love me."

"Of course, though I shouldn't."

"I love you, too. We love each other."

"How can you love a dinosaur?"

"The same way you can? . . ."

He didn't seem convinced. She sighed deeply.

"Owen, I wouldn't have done this if I didn't love you. As long as we're together, I don't care what we are. Don't forget that when I first fell in love with you, you weren't human."

"And now you'll never be human either."

Claire rolled her eyes.

"For goodness sake, it's not as bad as all that. After all, we may be anatomically compatible now . . ."

He tensed up as she began to lick his neck, then went limp. She smiled and rubbed her snout against his.

"I know this isn't what you had planned, but I think you'll learn to enjoy it."

He gave a deep rumble and nuzzled her in return.

"Claire, why did you have to go and be so perfect?"

"Well, like you always say, I'm different from the other villagers. So are you. We're able to look past the surface and see what's really important. That's why I fell in love with you. You were the only one who took me seriously."

"And vice versa."

They smiled, then shared their first kiss as dinosaurs. Claire wrapped her tail around Owen's and gave it a squeeze.

"Things will get better. You'll see. For now, why don't we go spend some time with the villagers? They seem very interested in us . . . in a good way."

To Owen's relief, she was right. While the ladies continued their information session, Owen pulled a sleigh full of men into the forest, where he showed them a cluster of winter truffles and edible roots. They loaded them into the sleigh and made their way back to the castle.

"I used to pick these all the time," he recalled, "They make wonderful soup, and you can use them over and over again, so-"

Owen fell silent when he saw James dragging a deer carcass across the field. The men hopped out of the sleigh, abandoning Owen, and surrounded the impressive kill. James gave the antlers to a young boy, then cut into the flank and started handing out meat to the cooks. As he castrated the animal, he made a point of meeting Owen's gaze.

This time, he didn't make it to the bushes before he threw up.


	13. Chapter 13

Owen had a restless sleep. He dreamed about being hunted in the forest- which was not unusual- only this time, Claire was there too. She ran alongside him as they fled a pack of red-eyed hounds, whose fangs gleamed white as they snapped at their legs. Owen yelped as he was caught in a field of bear traps, which snapped all over his body and pulled him from all angles. He tried to flee, but more traps slithered up to him, chomping on his flesh like they had minds of their own. Owen fell to his knees, but Claire attacked the metal monsters, and they were running once more.

Suddenly, Claire gave a cry, and as she fell into a pile of leaves, Owen saw a red arrow sticking out of her shoulder. He tried to help her up, but her wound began to leak bright red blood, which crossed the ground in rivers. The fluid oozed out of her like lava, and it just kept coming. Owen knew it was unreasonable for a single arrow to cause this much damage, but that didn't change the fact that Claire was dying. He tried to remove the shaft, but it only made her injury worse. He was soaked by the red fountain, and when he realized that there was nothing he could do, he began to weep. He nuzzled Claire's cheek. Her eyes rolled back and her tongue hung out of her mouth, and she was gone.

Laughter. Owen looked up and saw James standing on a cliff above him, surrounded by a crimson sky. He cackled at Owen's misery, arrows shaking on his back. The poor dinosaur growled, and for the first time, he felt no pity for James. His heart was overflowing with rage and rage alone, and he allowed himself to be consumed by the hatred he had been trying to suppress.

With a terrible roar, he flung himself against the stone and began to climb, almost running vertically as he pursued his wife's killer. When he reached the top, he lunged at James, and from his beak sprouted jagged fangs. He tore into his enemy's throat, shredding him with claws he didn't know he had. As he foamed at the mouth, he relished how good it felt to finally attack, and he didn't even care that he had forgotten his humanity. He was sick of playing nice. It pleased him to become his rival's predator.

Then, smoke began to fill his nostrils. Owen looked up from the bloody mess beneath him, fangs retracting, and saw fire spreading across the field.

This had never happened before.

With a panicked moo, he found himself running once more, powerless as prey. If the hunter was dead, who was attacking him now? Had this been James' plan all along?

And then Owen heard Fleur's voice above the crackle of flames. She was calling out to him, lost in the forest just as she had been trapped in the orphanage when it burned to the ground. He lifted his head.

"Fleur?! Fleur, where are you?!"

He spotted her in a clearing, shivering as she cradled his old stuffed bear. He leapt over the flames and ran towards her.

"Fleur, I'm coming!"

When she turned to look at him, terror crossed her visage, and she screamed. Owen realized that fangs were poking out of his beak. He tried to push them back in, but they refused to retract.

"Fleur, it's me! It's Owen! Don't be afraid!"

She started crying. Owen whimpered.

"It's me. It's your dad."

She turned and ran straight into the fire. Owen wailed.

"FLEUR!"

The child was scorched within a matter of seconds. Owen tried to reach out for her, but she was ash. He began to weep, and as he lowered his head, he saw the discarded bear lying in the leaves. When he moved to pick it up, he was shaken awake. He thought his vision might be blurry, but judging by the panicked look on Claire's face, there was literal smoke filling their quarters.

Owen leapt out of bed and followed her down the hall, ducking under the smog. They entered Fleur's room, but she was not there. Owen gave a roar that was laced with both rage and terror, then stormed through the castle. The part of the palace that was on fire did not seem to be taking too much damage- the villagers had caught it in time- but that wasn't what concerned Owen. He thundered into the snow, where the elderly villagers were coughing. James was with them, wearing that stupid charitable look of his. Before he could guess what was coming, Owen knocked him over with his horn. James was winded, both from the blow and from the shock of being attacked by a previously submissive opponent.

"I'm done putting up with your abuse!" Owen snarled, "This ends now!"

James scampered back in the powdery snow, holding his head.

"What the hell?!"

"You've gone too far! You have no right to endanger these people!"

"I didn't-"

"Don't play dumb with me! You started the fire!"

James glared at him.

"That's not true!"

"First you set traps, then you try to smoke me out like a fox!"

"If I wanted you dead, I would have set fire to your room, not the banquet hall. This is not my doing. I have nothing to gain from this."

Owen wedged his horns under James' arms and tossed him to the side.

"LIAR! You've been a menace from the start!"

James yelped as Owen dragged him back by the foot. He stamped on his back.

"I've tried to be kind to you, but you repay me by taking advantage of my generosity. I ought to-"

James yowled as Owen put his weight into him. There was a cracking sound. Owen's eyes went wide, and he eased off. James got to his feet with great difficulty, clutching his ribs.

"Monster . . ."

Suddenly, Maboul leapt out of the castle, pointing a charred finger at Owen.

"The Crimson Beast has injured James!"

Owen did not acknowledge the villagers filing through the entranceway, for he had noticed something peculiar. Maboul's pants were stained with lamp oil. Owen suddenly remarked the suspicious coincidence of two major fires happening in such a short stretch of time. He turned to James with guilt.

"You never started the fire . . ."

"Of course not!"

"But you set the trap . . ."

"That wasn't _my_ idea! It was-"

James noticed the stains as well. His jaw dropped.

"Maboul . . ."

The pudgy man roped Claire. Owen rushed towards her, but Maboul held up a pistol, smiling sinisterly.

"We've got them, James. We've got the monsters."

James limped forward, still clutching his torso.

"Maboul, what have you done? . . ."

"I knew this place was evil! We just needed proof, and now we have it. The Crimson Beast has harmed you. Once he's gone, the castle is ours."

Owen gave a furious snort.

"You traitor! You put everyone in harm's way just to execute me!"

James look down, and his face became solemn.

"And now we can . . ."

Owen backed away.

"You can't be serious . . ."

James frowned.

"I am. I've waited my entire life to put an end to you, and now I can. You've proven that you're a monster. You must be eliminated."

There were cries of protest from the villagers. James was put off by this, but he was determined to carry out his grim task. Owen shook his head.

"Don't do this, James. You know better."

He sighed.

"What's done is done. Maboul's actions may have been drastic, but he allowed me the opportunity to discover your true form. Now I can put my friend's soul to rest."

Claire screamed from where Maboul had tied her up.

"You stupid man! You'll be putting his soul to rest all right, but can you live with murdering your best friend?"

The villagers shouted in agreement. Little Fleur marched forward, glaring at him.

"Don't you dare hurt my Daddy! If you touch him, we'll banish you to the mountains!"

James stared at her for a moment. Then, with one swift action, he snatched her up and held a knife to her throat. Owen gasped.

"Nobody come forward, or I'll kill her. Beast, we have business to attend to. If you want this child alive, wait thirty seconds, then meet me in your private chamber."

Owen was shocked and furious, but he dared not disobey the man while his daughter's life hung in the balance. James retreated into the castle, and as soon as the thirty seconds had passed, Owen charged after him.


	14. Chapter 14

When Owen charged through his bedroom door, he saw James standing in the doorway that led to the balcony. He pressed the tip of his knife against Fleur's neck, and Owen skidded to a halt.

"Don't try anything foolish," James warned him.

Owen gave a fearful rumble, tears pricking at his eyes.

"Don't hurt her . . ."

"Why? Can you not consume her essence once she's dead?"

Owen whimpered.

"James, I'm not a monster. Leave her out of this. She's done nothing wrong."

"Can't. Since you feed off innocent souls, this is the only leverage I have over you."

"Then lock me away. Chain me down in the stables so you feel safe, but don't hurt my girl."

"You could escape using dark magic."

"James, I don't have magic powers. If I did, I would have used them by now."

"You're cunning. You're just trying to deceive me."

"That makes no sense, and you know it. Why are you _really_ doing this, James? What have you got to prove?"

As Owen approached, James backed away. This was a good sign, since he wasn't threatening Fleur anymore, but he still seemed unwilling to listen.

"You killed my best friend."

"I didn't."

"You robbed him of his life."

" _I_ was robbed of _my_ life when I became a dinosaur. I lost nearly everything, including our friendship. But life goes on. I found Claire- Well, _she_ found _me_ \- and for a while, I got to be your friend again."

"So?"

"So, I forgave you for shooting me in the back and slandering my name, even before you knew what I used to be . . . and what I am now. James, I'd rather fight for our friendship than pursue some pointless grudge. Can't you do the same?"

"We don't _have_ a friendship. I hate you."

"That's what I was afraid of."

They had migrated to the balcony. James leaned against the railing with Fleur still wedged beneath his arm. She was crying softly.

"James, I don't know whether or not you fully believe what you're saying, but I think there's more to this than a conviction that I'm evil. You're smart. You should have figured out by now that I mean you no harm. You don't have to tell me what's wrong, though I wish you would. All I need to know is if there's any chance you'll even _consider_ accepting me. No tricks, no lies. Just tell me if it's possible."

"I have no reason to believe you."

Owen gulped, then batted his eyes.

"What if . . . I _gave_ you a reason to believe me?"

"You can't. You don't have one."

Owen took a deep breath.

"If I prove to you that I'm not a voice-stealing demon, will you leave Fleur and Claire alone?"

"You can't prove it."

"But if I can, will you believe me?"

"Yes . . ."

Owen inhaled deeply, then lifted his chin a little.

"Okay. I'm going to do it. Fleur, peanut, close your eyes."

She whimpered. Owen frowned gently.

"Please, just close your eyes."

"Is this some kind of spell?!" James spat.

"No, I promise it's not. It's actually the opposite. If I was an evil person, I'd be self-serving. I'd be saving Fleur just because I want to use her."

"Which you do . . ."

"I don't. I'm going to save her _and_ Claire without the promise of a reward. All I want is for them to be safe."

He placed his front feet on the balcony's railing. James quirked a brow.

"What are you doing . . ."

Owen looked down.

"You asked me why I let you win when we played by the lake. It was because I knew you needed it. I don't know what it's like to have pride, but I know it's important enough that people will leave you if you disrespect their right to feel it. I let you win the game, but the greater victory was mine. We stayed friends, and that was all I ever wanted. I'm sorry it had to end."

And with that, he climbed over the railing. As his body tilted over the edge, James dropped his knife with shock and ran forward.

"OWEN!"

It was too late. The dinosaur fell to the ground, landing at the base of a tower. James stared down at him with horror, then dashed into the castle, scooping up a crying Fleur. He scampered down the staircase and let the child run alongside him once they were outside.

They found Owen wheezing in the snow, visible eye rolled up like a sick animal. It flicked briefly to James, then closed.

"I hoped I'd die right away, but you'll have your proof in a few minutes."

James shook as he eyed the broken limbs and shattered ribcage of the mangled dinosaur. Fleur screamed and ran over to hug his neck, and though it was painful to be touched, Owen let her do it. Not that he had much choice, since he was basically paralyzed.

Then, Sableuse and a few other villagers ran over to see what all the noise was about, and as they caught a glimpse of the dying animal, they rushed over to console him. Someone went back to untie Claire, who charged through the snow with tears streaming down her cheeks. She nuzzled and licked her husband's cheek, but he was too weak to respond. No one seemed concerned with James at all (and failed to notice that he had vanished, even), being more preoccupied with Owen's injuries rather than who was responsible for inflicting them. They surrounded his failing body, some of them crying, and spoke words of comfort. Although he was in a great deal of pain, Owen was thankful that he would be leaving this world surrounded by people who cared about him, rather than alone and frightened as he often speculated.

Then, out of nowhere, his limbs began to creak, and his bones snapped back into place violently. He winced in pain, grinding his teeth, then gasped loudly as the life returned to his visage. He tested his healed body and gave a disappointed moo.

"Now James will _never_ believe me!"

But he soon realized he was wrong when a new dinosaur emerged from the forest. It was a pastel blue male with brown markings on his back and a light yellow underbelly. He held his head low, tail dragging behind him, and shamefully lumbered towards Owen, who stood up cautiously. When the submissive dinosaur slowed to a stop, he turned his head away, curling his tail between his legs.

"I guess this is a fitting punishment."

Owen cocked his head and moved in for a closer look.

"James? . . ."

He nodded.

"I asked to trade my life for yours, but since you weren't dead yet, they told me I'd have to . . . you know. I didn't want to wait for you to die since you were in so much pain, and besides, I was hoping you'd get some satisfaction out of seeing me like this, since I don't think I could put into words how wrong I was."

He shrunk a little more, feeling the judging glares of the villagers.

"I know it won't be enough, but I think you must have some idea of how sorry I am, and I'm content to live with the consequences of my actions, I assure you. I'll be traveling beyond the mountains once I'm done here, and you'll never have to see me again."

"James . . ."

"I won't try to contact anyone else, either. I'll just live in the wild and think about what I've done until the day I die."

"James."

"I wish there was more I could do. I truly am sorry. You're not a monster. You deserve to be surrounded by people who care about you unconditionally, and-"

"James, don't go."

He sighed.

"I have to. After all that I've done, it would only be fair."

Owen shook his head.

"That's not fair to anyone. _You'd_ be suffering, and _I_ would take no comfort in knowing that you had to endure the same isolation I did. Besides, I'd rather keep you around."

"Why?"

"Because we're friends . . . I assume."

"If you still want to be."

"Well, I wouldn't have jumped off a balcony if I wasn't serious."

James lowered his head, but Owen butted his side gently.

"Come on. Stay. You can't live alone. Who's gonna teach you how to be a dinosaur? Maboul?"

Claire snorted angrily.

"That filthy rat escaped while I was tied up. I think he sensed the impending Coup D'État of his peers."

Owen shrugged.

"Ah, let him go. I'd rather not have him around anyway. All that matters is my wife, my friends, my- Where's Fleur?"

Suddenly, a little green ball of scales came rolling down the hill. When it hit Owen's leg, it unfolded into a young Stegoceratops.

"Hello!"

Owen's jaw dropped.

"Fleur?! What happened to you?!"

"I chopped down a tree and became a dinosaur."

" _WHY_?!"

She shrugged.

"Because I wanted to."

Owen let out a long, frustrated breath.

"Anyone else? Come on, get it out of your system."

The villagers exchanged looks, then agreed that there were enough dinosaurs running around at the moment. Owen nodded and picked up Fleur by the scruff of her neck, speaking through a mouthful of scales.

"Urlright. Lurt's go."

As they trotted back to the castle, Claire gave a surprised shout. She lifted her front foot, then fished something out of the snow with her tail.

"I found my ring!"

She tried to place it on her finger, only to find it no longer existed. After a pause, James plucked it up in his beak and slid it onto her tail spike.

"I fixed it."

Owen smiled.

"That you did, James. That you did."


	15. Chapter 15

Deep in the forest, a stag huffed and puffed as it was pursued by two predators. It was out of breath, having been the target of wolves earlier that morning, and these two creatures had the advantage in their own territory. Suddenly, a net fell from the treetops, and the stag was hopelessly entangled. It gave a terrified wail, but fell silent when it smelled fresh carrots. The two dinosaurs that had been stalking it offered home-grown vegetables, and the stag was more than happy to accept them. They pulled the net from its back and lured it to a castle, dropping bits of lettuce along the way to keep the deer motivated. When they reached a warm building filled with hay, they dropped their produce in a small pen, where the stag began to graze happily. A young dinosaur skipped through the door and gave an excited gasp.

"You found one!"

She giggled gleefully and ran up to the stag, stroking its coat with affection. Owen and James exchanged a smile, then grabbed a harness with bells sewn into the leather.

"Ready?" Owen asked.

They tied the stag to a sleigh, dangling a carrot in front of its face to encourage travel, and made their way to the place where truffles grew. They came back with a decent harvest and met Claire in the foyer, where she was decorating the tree she had chopped down during their big fight. When Owen gave her a questioning look, she shrugged.

"I didn't want it to go to waste, and it looks good in here, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure, but won't it get sap all over the place?"

"I'm not worried about that."

She trotted over to her husband and nuzzled his snout. Fleur butted between them indignantly.

"Hey! What about me? I made something too!"

She pointed to a tray of sweet roots, which were bent into little hooks.

"I couldn't get them to stand up straight, but I painted them so you can hardly tell."

She smiled proudly and dunked her front foot in a jar of cherry juice, which she used to embellish the remaining sweets. Owen laughed and scooped her up.

"I think we have a little genius here, Claire."

Fleur giggled and slapped her wet foot across his snout, making it even redder. James smiled gently and examined her creation, looking pensive, but not dolefully so.

"You've done a good job, Fleur. I'm really proud of you."

She hopped out of Owen's arms and hugged James' leg. He pulled his head back with surprise.

"Thank you," Fleur whispered, "That means so much to me."

After a pause, her eyes flicked open, and she looked up at James with concern.

"Oh, James! We didn't leave anything for _you_ to do!"

He quirked a brow.

"Actually, Fleur, I got you all presents."

"PRESENTS?!"

"Yes. I left them around here somewhere . . ."

Claire peeked under the tree.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't see them when I put it up."

Fleur squealed with delight and dove under the branches, resurfacing with three wrapped packages. Claire received a new pair of boots, which were efficient to mass-produce, since she had twice as many feet, and they were round enough to accommodate a simple design. Fleur received a wagon for Oos, which she pulled across the castle with a glowing smile. Last of all, Owen received a reed, which to an outsider might have seemed like the lesser of these three gifts.

In reality, it was exactly what he'd wanted.


	16. Chapter 16

Although Elkay watched the final scene of her story play out in the snowglobe with a smile crossing her beak, she couldn't help but feel empty as the narrative faded into its inevitable end. She exhaled pensively and placed the trinket back in its dark drawer, wondering if there would ever come a time when a third instalment would emerge from the crystal sphere. As she tapped her manuscript on the desk to make it even, a winged dinosaur trotted through the door, which had been open for a long time, she realized. The two of them stared at each other in silence.

". . . Hello, Claire."

"Hello."

". . . So . . ."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was writing a story using an essence Ellie and I extracted from you a while back, which is one of many, in case you were wondering. We were saving up stories to help you along. You died of whiplash in one universe. Anyone paying attention will understand that and find it funny."

The dinosaur blinked.

"Okay. I'm not mad. That kind of magic doesn't hurt me. The lies involved in your scheme sting a little, but I'll get over it."

"I'm sure."

After another pause, the dinosaur sighed.

"Let's cut to the chase. I tried talking to your parents, but they refused to suck it up and be kind for the sake of a simple resolution. They're kind of terrible that way. Do you want to spend time with my family instead?"

For a moment, all the poor dragon could do was stare at her with her usual blank expression, but when no additional clauses or conditions were added to this statement, she blinked in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Well, didn't you want to spend Christmas with someone?"

Elkay folded her ears.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Claire, but unless you've suffered some kind of brain injury, you should remember that I've been excessively cruel to you ever since you murdered my granddaughter."

"I didn't kill her. You know that."

"You turned her to stone. Same thing. But that doesn't change our situation. Tell me why you're being so nice to me."

"It's Christmas."

Elkay's eyes went wide enough to give her the appearance of having a cosmic epiphany.

"I understand! Oh my god! I understand!"

"I know. Are you coming?"

"Yes!"

She trotted after Claire happily, humming Christmas songs. When they crossed through a portal to the world where Claire lived, Elkay froze suddenly.

"Claire, you realize this is going to be like that one Christmas in World War Two where the soldiers stopped fighting for Christmas, then went back into war mode the very next day . . ."

"I know."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Not particularly."

"So you'll be totally fine when we wake up tomorrow and I go back to attacking you and you go back to being a Nazi?"

Claire stopped walking, then turned her head over her shoulder deliberately with a deep frown. Elkay winced.

"Sorry. Force of habit. I'll be nice from now until midnight."

Claire sighed.

"Alright. Welcome to the Dearing Family Christmas. I hope it's satisfactory."

It was.

It really, really was.


End file.
